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ROBERT 

ERNEST  COWAN 

THE  STORM'S  GIFT 


BY 

DR.  C.  E.  LINTON 


ILLUSTRATED 


FROM  THE  PRESS  OF  THE 
INTERSTATE  BINDERY,  VANCOUVER, 


COPYRIGHTED 
BY 

DR.  C.  E.  LINTON 


352,2) 

L 


m 
en 


To  My  Dear   Wife 

LILLIAN 

in  memory  of  her  gracious  encouragement. 
This  book  is  lovingly  dedicated. 


281192 


CONTENTS: 

Page 

Dedication   7 

Introduction   + 11 

The  Wreck  of  the  Grace  and  Dell 13 

The  Sailor's  Story 28 

The  Land  Voyage  36 

Paul  Likens 57 

The  Miser's  Death  _ 66 

Lottie  Meets  Her  Father 81 

Midnight  Storm  85 

The  Attack  on  the  Grace  and  Dell 99 

Lost  at   Sea   113 

Charley  Clarke's  Wooing 130 

The  Hula  Hula  Dance 147 

The  Earthquake  155 

Lottie's  Trip  West  164 

"When  Heaven  Turns  to  Hell" 169 

At  Sea  Again 173 

Roy  Gilbert's  Wooing  178 

Hugh's   Disappointment   1 185 

The  Duel  193 

"I  Thank  the  Storms"  ..                                   .  208 


CHARLOTTE  FUQUAY 


INTRODUCTION 

Encouraged  by  the  success  of  my  book  the 
"Earthmotor,"  I  am  again  in  print.  So  much  of 
book  is  true  history  of  pioneer  times,  the  review 
ers  of  the  M.  S.  S.  claim  for  it  a  place  among  the 
historical  records  of  Oregon.  As  many  of  the 
characters  are  still  living,  it  was  necessary  to  use 
ficticious  names ;  however  numbers  of  Oregon  pio 
neers  will  recognize  the  characters  under  the  as 
sumed  names.  The  South  Sea  Island  spoken  of 
in  this  book  has  been  visited  by  the  author,  where 
many  evidences  of  the  Clarke  Colony  still  remain. 
To  Mrs.  Francis  H.  Christ  the  author  owes  much 
for  her  able  assistance  in  getting  out  this  work. 
She  being  a  distinguished  librarian  on  a  summer 
outing  near  my  home.  Kindly  assisted  me  with 
thought  and  detail. 

The  Author. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT 


Chapter  I 
The  Wreck  of  the  Grace  and  Dell. 

"Martin! — Martin! — Don't  you  hear  it  " 

"Hear  what?"  her  husband  answered  drow 
sily.  "How  can  anyone  hear  anything  in  this 
storm?" 

"Why  Martin,"  exclaimed  the  wife,  "I  heard 
three  great  guns  at  sea." 

"Good  Lord!  why  didn't  you  say  so  sooner." 
cried  Martin,  as  he  sprang  from  his  bed.  Call  the 
boys  Lizzie,  while  I  run  down  to  the  beach  and  see 
if  I  can  learn  what's  the  trouble." 

Martin  had  sought  out  an  old  candle  lantern, 
and  held  it  up  to  his  eyes  to  make  sure  he  had  it 
lighted. 

"Send  Charley  over  to  Williams  as  soon  as  he 
is  dressed,  Lizzie,"  and  as  Martin  approached  the 
window,  he  exclaimed,  "Good  Good!  I  see  her!" 
"Can't  you  see  those  lights,  Lizzie"  just  there  to 
the  right  of  the  cow  shed  and  not  a  mile  at  sea  ?" 

"God  have  mercy  on  them,  Martin,"  spoke  his 
wife,  "  no  ship  can  live  in  this  gale." 

"Live  Lizzie !  she  is  in  the  breakers  now." 
"Come  on  Art,  haint  you  got  your  clothes  on  yet  ?" 

"What  is  it  father  ?"  came  from  the  kitchen  in 
a  boyish  voice,  and  at  the  same  time  a  youth  of 
about  sixteen  years  of  age  stepped  into  what  was 
those  days,  the  living  room  of  the  family. 


14  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

"It's  a  ship!  A  Wreck!"  replied  the  father. 
"Get  into  your  Sou'wester  and  slicker  as  quick  as 
you  can." 

"Can't  I  help  do  something  Daddy  ?"  spoke  a 
girlish  voice  from  a  bedroom  door  on  the  same 
floor. 

"Get  back  to  bed  Alice,"  commanded  the  fath 
er  "you  couldn't  stand  up  a  moment  in  this  storm." 

All  this  conversation  took  place  in  less  time 
than  it  takes  to  repeat  it. 

The  Clarke  family  had  not  been  idle,  and  as  a 
lurid  flash  of  lightning  lit  up  the  scene  for  a  sec 
ond,  the  father  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  three  master 
inside  the  third  line  of  breakers. 

The  father  and  son  left  the  house  on  a  run, 
and  were  it  not  for  the  darkness  you  might  have 
seen  the  graceful  form  of  Alice  Clarke  as  she  fol 
lowed  behind  her  father  and  brother. 

"She'll  hit  the  beach  about  opposite  the  pasture 
fence,"  said  the  father.  "We  can  do  nothing  yet, 
Frank,  you  had  better  return  to  the  house  and 
have  mother  and  the  girls  build  a  rousing  fire  in 
the  chimney,  and  put  plenty  of  water  to  heat.  If 
any  of  them  come  alive,  through  that  surf,  it  will 
be  a  miracle,  and  it  will  need  plenty  of  hot  water 
and  blankets  to  thaw  out  their  blood — and  say 
boy!  fetch  back  with  you  that  long  piece  of  cork 
line  hanging  in  the  woodshed,  and  a  bottle  of  rum 
from  the  storehouse.  More  lively,  boy,  don't  you 
see  the  rollers  have  dashed  out  the  lights  on  her 
for'ard  and  aft?" 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  15 

"Daddy,"  spoke  a  pleading  voice  at  his  side,  "I 
am  coming  with  you." 

It  was  difficult  to  distinguish  the  girl's  words 
amidst  the  howling  of  the  winds,  and  as  the  father 
was  too  much  occupied  in  watching  the  move 
ments  of  the  doomed  ship,  he  gave  but  little  heed 
to  his  pleading  daughter. 

"Well  come  on,  girl,  you  are  always  where 
you  are  not  wanted;  if  you  catch  your  death — 
Lord  girl!  she's  hit!  there  she  strikes  again!  Oh 
hear  her  groan! — if  she  is  new  and  staunch,  she 
may  hold  together.  The  shingle  here  is  smooth, 
and  not  a  rock  in  two  miles.  If  they  stay  on 
board  until  she  beaches,  I  believe  they  can  save 
themselves.  Ha! — what's  that!" 

"It's  a  voice  Father." 

"That  didn't  sound  like  a  man's  voice  to  me 
girl,  sounded  more  like  the  storm  screaming 
through  her  rigging." 

"It  sounded  like  a  child's  voice  to  me  daddy, 
a  little  child  screaming  with  cold  and  horror." 

"You  better  go  back  to  the  house  girl,  all 
you  are  good  for  is  to  unnerve  me  with  your 
silly  fancies.  A  child  indeed  on  a  three  mast 
whaler.  More  likely  it  was  the  squeal  of  a  seal 
or  sealion  in  its  alarm  at  the  approach  of  the 
doomed  vessel.  She  is  fast  aground,  daughter, 
snug  and  fast.  Gracious  girl!  how  the  wind 
blows.  Raise  up  your  voice  girl  and  yell  with  me, 
perhaps  we  can  make  the  poor  devils  hear  us. 
There  comes  the  boys."  As  he  spoke  a  half  dozen 


16  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

settlers  came  rapidly  forward  accompanied  by 
the  boy  Charley. 

"Can  you  make  her  out  Clarke  ?",spoke  up 
Williams,  a  tall  stooped  shouldered  man  about 
fifty  years  of  age  and  a  slight  limp  in  his  walk. 

"She's  a  three  master,  and  likely  a  whaler, 
only  saw  her  plainly  by  one  lightning  flash.  It 
must  be  about  high  water,  and  she  will  be  high 
and  dry  at  low  tide.  Seems  as  though  some  of 
them  ought  to  be  showing  up  on  deck  or  in  the 
surf.  She  had  her  mast  head  and  tail  lights, 
when  I  first  sighted  her.  Don't  you  think  we  had 
better  scatter  out  a  little  Williams?,  the  crew 
might  have  taken  to  the  boats  and  landed  up  by 
the  big  stump,  or  down  Yachats  way.  It's  evi 
dent  there  is  no  one  on  board  now  or  they  would 
see  our  light  and  give  us  a  signal." 

"I'll  take  my  boys  and  Joe  Taylor  and  head 
for  the  Yachats  rocks,  Clarke.  It's  the  hardest 
trip  against  the  storm,  but  I'm  the  youngest,  and 
being  an  old  sailor  myself,  know  how  to  head  into 
a  sixty  mile  breeze."  "You  better  send  the  rest 
of  the  boys  up  toward  the  mouth  of  the  bay.  If 
they  left  in  a  life  boat  they  have  made  the 
mouth  of  the  Alsea,  but  no  life  boat  could  live 
on  that  bar  in  this  gale." 

So  the  men  folks  parted,  leaving  Alice  stand 
ing  alone  in  the  blinding  storm.  She  had  prom 
ised  her  father  to  go  home  at  once,  but  the  piti 
ful  wail  she  had  heard  seemingly  from  the  furi 
ous  breakers,  seemed  to  hold  her  there  with  her 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  17 

eyes  glued  to  the  outline  of  the  doomed  ship. 

"How  can  I  leave  here",  she  almost  sobbed 
to  herself,  "I  know  I  heard  a  little  child's  voice, 
but  father  says  there  could  be  no  child  on  a 
whaler  and  of  course  I  must  be  mistaken — still, 
I  dare  not  leave, — seems  as  though  it  doesn't  blow 
so  hard,  and  it  has  almost  ceased  to  rain.  If 
the  moon  would  only  shine  through  the  great 
angry  clouds  for  a  minute." 

As  though  in  answer  to  her  pleading  a 
rakish  slant  of  light  burst  forth  from  a  rift 
in  the  scudding  clouds,  and  as  the  full  moon 
stepped  into  the  vacant  space,  she  could  see  the 
wreck  in  its  mystic  majesty,  raising  and  falling 
with  the  surly  snarl  of  the  surf.  Again  she 
thought  she  heard  a  feeble  cry  during  a  lull  in 
the  tempest,  and  a  few  minutes  later,  as  the  wind 
died  down,  there  was  no  mistake  now.  It  was  the 
feeble  voice  of  a  child,  in  fact  the  anguished  baby. 

"Heavenly  'Father!  what  shall  I  do?,  she 
screamed  aloud,  "What  can  I  do.  It  will  perish 
before  low  tide.  Oh!  how  I  wish  the  men  had 
not  all  left." 

Faint  streaks  of  dawn  were  kissing  the  east 
ern  horizon.  Great  winrows  of  yellowed  sea  foam 
like  lather  blew  about  the  beach.  Overhead  a 
flock  of  screaming  gulls  were  rushing  to  their 
feast  on  a  whale's  carcass  just  a  few  rods  north 
of  the  big  stump.  As  she  stood  there  shaking 
with  cold  and  emotion,  she  saw  the  figure  of  her 
youngest  brother,  Hugh,  approaching. 


18  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

"Run  back  home,  Hughie,  dear,  you'll  freeze 
or  blow  away  brother." 

"Guess  I  can  stand  as  much  cold  as  a  girl 
can",  sang  out  her  seven  year  old  brother,  who 
had  already  killed  a  deer,  and  landed  a  Chinook 
salmon  as  large  as  himself  unaided. 

"Hugh  dear,  then  could  you  stand  here  and 
watch  the  ship  while  I  see  if  I  can  overtake  father 
and  the  boys  ?  I  know  there  is  a  child  aboard  that 
wreck." 

"Do  you  think  it's  a  boy,  Alice  ?  If  it's  a  boy 
I'll  just  swim  out  and  get  him,  but  maybe  it's  a 
girl  sister,  a  regular  clawing  crying  girl,  and  I 
don't  want  to  try  rescuing  no  girls,  for  didn't 
Hattie  Bates  just  drown  Frank  Reames  when 
they  was  close  to  shore  and  him  a  saving  her 
life?  No.  Alice,  I  am  afraid  it's  a  girl  so  I  guess 
I'll  not  swim  out." 

"Don't  talk  silly,  Hughey,  no  one  could  swim 
out  in  this  awful  sea." 

"Oh  yes  I  could  if  it  was  a  boy,"  but  his 
Words  Were  lost  on  his  sister  who  by  this  time 
was  flying  up  the  beach,  her  speed  increased  by 
the  wind  at  her  back. 

The  girl  was  scarcely  out  of  sight  when  the 
boy  on  the  beach  spied  a  dark  object  floating  low 
in  the  water.  Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  mov 
ing  speck.  When  with  a  ponderous  roller  much 
larger  than  the  rest,  the  child  could  plainly  see 
it  was  the  body  of  a  man,  the  boy's  first  im 
pulse  was  to  fly  for  home,  on  second  thought  he 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  19 

decided  to  wait  until  it  came  ashore.  Never 
dreaming  the  man  was  alive.  A  half  dozen 
smaller  breakers  cast  the  wrecked  sailor  on  the 
smooth  shingle  almost  at  the  boy's  feet.  Girted 
about  the  body  was  a  life  preserver  of  a  date 
used  fifty  years  ago,  and  clasped  in  his  arms  was 
a  tiny  child,  while  about  his  neck  hung  a  leather 
sack.  The  boy  approached  the  drowned  sailor 
with  less  awe  than  the  average  child  of  today 
would,  for  in  those  times  it  wasn't  an  uncommon 
sight  to  find  drowned  bodies  lying  on  the  beach, 
washed  from  some  fatal  wreck  miles  away. 

As  the  boy  Hugh  approached  the  body  of  the 
sailor,  the  little  child  uttered  a  faint  cry. 

"By  Crackins!  the  thing's  alive",  exclaimed 
the  boy  Hugh.  "By  Crackins  it  must  be  cold. 
Whew!  it's  a  little  thing.  I  know  its  a  boy,  be 
cause  it  don't  howl  much.  Where's  my  Barlow 
knife.  Oh,  here  it  is.  Can't  untie  these  knots, 
just  got  to  cut  'em,  lay  still  Sammy,  be  quiet, 
or  I  might  cut  a  slice  out  of  you;  this  barlow  is 
as  sharp  as  a  razor,  even  if  Charley  did  say  you 
couldn't  cut  soft  butter  with  it.  By  Crackins 
that  rope  is  tough  if  it  wasn't  for  them  nicks  in 
the  blade  I  couldn't  saw  that  rope  in  two  at  all. 
There  you  be,  that  one's  off.  Just  one  more  and 
you'll  be  loose  from  your  friend,  or  grandfather, 
or  who  ever  he  is." 

At  this  the  last  knot  gave  up  to  the  razor- 
like  barlow,  and  the  child  was  free  from  the  dead 
sailor. 


20 


"You're  a  boy,  ain't  you  Sammy?",  argued 
Hugh  in  his  childish  confidence,  "Of  course, 
you're  a  boy.  What  would  a  girl  be  doing  on  a 
whale  ship.  My  but  you're  a  small  one.  You 
wouldn't  make  more  than  a  half  dozen  fish  baits. 
By  Crackins  you're  shaking.  What  made  your 
eyes  fly  so  wide  open  and  stay  so  wide  open? 
Wish  you'd  cry  or  do  something,  Sammy.  Sam 
my,  that's  your  name,  you  know  cause  I  found 
you,  but  here  we  are  at  the  gate.  Oh  Mother!, 
Ma — Ma — open  the  gate, — I've  got  little  Sammy, 
— found  him  tied  to  a  dead  sailor.  He  was  crying 
when  I  first  found  him,  but  his  eyes  popped  open 
and  he  just  stared  at  me  like  he  was  scart  of  me/' 

"Father  in  Heaven,  Hughie,  give  me  the  little 
darling.  Oh !  Hughie,  dear,  it  is  dead." 

"No  he  aint  dead,  Mother.  He's  just  scairt. 
He  was  hollerin'  a  little  while  ago." 

"Why  didn't  you  bring  it  quicker,  Hughie?" 

"Well  it  was  tied  fast  to  the  man." 

"The  man,  son, — what  man  ?" 

"Oh  he's  dead  all  right,  he  never  hollered, 
but  the  little  Sammy  he  cried  pretty  loud  at 
first." 

"I'm  afraid  it's  too  late  Hughie.  Dip  some 
of  that  hot  water  into  the  large  dishpan  while 
I  get  these  salt  soaked  rags  off  of  the  poor  little 
dear.  Hurry,  Hughie,  we  may  save  it.  The  child 
isn't  drowned, — it's  the  cold  and  exposure  that 
has  overcome  it.  Bring  me  the  camphor." 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  21 

And  as  the  last  rag  was  stripped  from  the 
little  waif,  the  mother  exclaimed; — 

"Oh!  Hughie,  it's  a  baby  girl!" 

Hughie's  keen  interest  was  considerably 
dampened  by  this  knowledge  and  with  a  shrug 
he  replied: 

"She  aint  Sammy.     She's  another  girl." 

The  mother  worked  feverishly,  breathlessly, 
over  the  unconscious  babe,  submerging  her  in 
warm  water,  forcing  a  few  drops  of  milk  and 
brandy  into  the  tiny  mouth.  The  blue  lips  were 
set  and  cold,  and  the  poor  woman  was  about  to 
give  up  all  hope,  when  a  faint  color  seemed  to 
appear  on  the  baby's  cheeks.  Soon  a  sigh  es 
caped  the  parted  lips,  and  the  set  eyelids  slowly 
closed, — the  child  had  passed  into  a  quiet  sleep. 

Clarke  and  his  party  were  overtaken  by  the 
swift  footed  Alice,  a  half  mile  to  the  northward 
of  the  big  stump.  In  a  breath  she  told  the  news, 
and  Clarke  andCharley,  returned  with  her  to  the 
scene  of  the  wreck.  Judge  their  surprise  on 
reaching  a  point  opposite  the  wreck  to  discover 
the  body  of  a  man  lying  half  covered  by  the  ac 
cumulated  foam  of  the  angry  sea. 

"Here  is  one  of  them  children.  I  wonder 
where  the  rest  can  be." 

While  Alice  bending  over  the  prostrate  form 
of  the  sailor  said  to  her  father ; — 

"Daddy,  maybe  he  isn't  dead." 

"By  jove,  that's  so  Alice.  Do  you  notice  any 
symptoms  of  life?" 


22  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

The  girl  had  torn  open  the  blue  sailor  shirt, 
and  held  her  ear  close  over  his  heart. 

"I  think  I  hear  a  feeble  heart  beat  Daddy." 

"Then  grab  him  by  the  heels,  children.  I  will 
carry  the  shoulders,  and  let's  get  him  to  the 
house." 

It  was  less  than  two  hundred  yards  from  the 
Clarke  home  to  the  beach,  and  a  few  minutes 
brought  the  Clarkes  with  the  wet  inanimate  body 
to  the  door. 

"It's  exposure  and  not  drowning.  Hasn't  a 
drop  of  water  escaped  his  lips,  all  the  way,  al 
though  we  have  carried  him  face  down.  Hope 
mother's  got  that  water  boiling.  Charley  where 
is  that  rum?" 

Soon  the  body  of  the  sailor  was  deposited  in 
front  of  the  fireplace  on  warm  blankets.  They 
stripped  the.  sodden  garments  from  his  stark 
form.  Clarke  had  emptied  a  few  spoonfuls  of  hot 
rum  between  his  lips,  and  a  nervous  twitching  of 
the  eyelids  betokened  returning  life. 

"Look  here,  Martin.  See  what  your  son 
Hugh  has  brought  us.  See  this  pretty  girl  from 
the  storm." 

"Godfrey !    Lizzie,  it's  a  baby." 

"Of  course  it's  a  baby,  Martin." 

"Well  Lizzie,  woman,  where  did  he  get  it?" 

"It  was  lashed  to  the  breast  of  your  sailor 
man  there.  Do  you  think  he  will  live,  Martin?" 

"Alice  is  the  Doctor,  Mother." 

"How,  now,  Alice  girl  ?" 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  23 

"He's  alive  father,  but  something  is  wrong 
with  his  lungs.  They're  either  full  of  water  or 
congestion.  It  seems  so  hard  for  him  to  breathe." 

"Give  him  another  spoonful  of  the  hot  rum, 
daughter.  There's  nothing  like  hot  rum  for 
thawing  out  the  lungs." 

After  the  administration  of  the  stimulant, 
the  sailor  opened  his  eyes.  In  a  gasping  voice 
he  inquired,  "Where  is  it?" 

"Oh !  it  was  wrecked",  spoke  up  Clarke,  "but 
she  is  lying  easily  on  the  smooth  shingle." 

"I  don't  mean  the  ship.  Damn  the  ship!  I 
mean  the  baby  girl,"  he  half  whispered, — half 
groaned. 

"She  is  sleeping  sweetly,  my  good  man", 
spoke  up  Mrs.  Clarke,"  you  must  rest  yourself, 
and  be  quiet." 

"It  aint  for  myself  that  I  cares,  lady,  it's  for 
the  little  body  I  found  clinging  to  its  dead  moth 
er's  breast  at  Unimak  Pass  in  the  Alutian 
Islands." 

"There  now  my  friend,  rest  yourself  and  do 
not  try  to  talk.  When  you  are  stronger  you 
shall  tell  us  all."  said  good  Mrs.  Clarke. 

They  raised  the  prostrate  man  and  placed 
him  on  a  low  bed  in  an  adjoining  room  where 
the  warmth  of  the  fireplace  reached,  and  the  girls 
of  the  family  busied  themselves  about  the  fire 
place  preparing  the  midday  meal. 

The  baby  girl  had  wakened  from  her  sleep 
in  the  warm  flannels  and  the  big  blue  eyes  were 


24  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

looking  longingly  in  the  face  of  Mrs.  Clarke,  as 
she  held  the  little  bundle  fondly  in  her  mother 
arms. 

"Is  the  milk  warm,  Alice  ?  then  bring  a  cup 
and  a  spoon,  the  poor  little  thing  is  most  famish 
ed.  I  wonder  what  that  poor  sailor  man  could 
find  on  board  a  whaler  to  feed  a  tiny  waif  like 
this.  Still  she  has  been  well  cared  for.  Look  at 
those  plump  little  arms.  She's  not  been  starved, 
that's  sure." 

They  carried  to  the  bedside  of  the  sailor,  a 
delicate  clam  broth  and  a  tender  steak  of  venison, 
but  the  sailorman  ate  sparingly,  and  even  an  un- 
practiced  eye  could  see  he  was  in  a  high  fever. 

Mrs.  Clarke  thoughtfully  carried  the  baby 
girl  to  the  bedside  and  laid  her  tenderly  beside 
the  stricken  man. 

"Thank  you  sweet  lady,  I  wanted  to  ask  for 
her  but  didn't  know  whether  it  was  right  or  not. 
My  name,  Ma'am,  is  Joseph  DeSomer.  I  signed 
head  hunter  on  the  whaler,  Grace  and  Dell,  and 
held  that  position  until  this  baby  angel  came  in 
to  my  life.  The  Eskimo  that  saw  the  wrecking 
of  the  ship  on  which  this  baby  and  her  mother 
were  passengers  said  the  baby  was  the  sole  sur 
vivor.  That  walrus  skin  sack  you  found  about 
my  neck  was  fastened  to  the  body  of  the  child's 
dead  mother.  You  will  find  writings  and  trinkets 
belonging  to  her,  also  quite  a  sum  of  French  Mon 
ey.  The  dead  mother's  name  was  Jessie  Fuguay. 
according  to  the  writings  and  this  dear  little 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  25 

thing  had  been  given  the  name  Charlotte,  in  her 
writings,  she  calls  her  little  Lottie." 

His  hoarseness  had  so  increased  by  this 
time  that  it  was  difficult  to  hear  his  words.  As 
he  struggled  for  air  to  fill  his  congested  lungs. 
Soon  the  exhausted  man  slept,  and  Mrs.  Clarke, 
lifted  tenderly  the  little  waif  from  his  side,  and 
carried  it  before  the  broad  fireplace  of  the  living 
room. 

"Alice,  where  is  your  sister  Nellie?" 

"Oh  mother,  she  is  with  the  boys  down 
aboard  the  wreck.  The  tide  has  left  the  ship  high 
and  dry,  but  say  mother,  who  could  the  little 
thing  belong  to.  Was  her  mother  aboard  the 
wrecked  ship?" 

"Not  this  ship,  Alice,  but  another  one,  way 
up  on  the  coast  of  Alaska." 

"Can  I  hold  her  now  mother?  My  arms  just 
ache  for  her." 

"Why  certainly,  child,  you  will  have  to  hold 
her  a  great  many  times  before  she  is  old  enough, 
or  strong  enough  to  take  care  of  herself." 

"What  does  Hughie  think  of  her  ma?" 

"Hughie  is  almost  a  baby  himself,  Alice.  He 
is  greatly  disappointed  that  she  is  a  girl.  He 
was  so  sure  it  was  a  boy,  he  had  already  named 
her  Sammy,  and  was  planning  many  good  times, 
and  adventures  as  Sammy  grew  older.  For  he 
says  "he's  mine,  didn't  I  cut  him  loose?" 


26  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

"Oh  Mother — Alice — ,you  ought  to  come 
down,  and  see  all  the  nice  things  there  are  on 
the  big  ship,"  the  speaker  was  a  girl  about  four 
teen  years  of  age,  with  two  massive  braids  of 
dark  brown  hair  hanging  down  her  back. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  nice  things?"  in 
quired  her  sister. 

"Oh  dishes  and  books,  and  a  clock,  Alice.  A 
clock  with  a  wood  bird  that  makes  a  noise  like 
a  pigeon,  Alice,"  she  cried,  "let  me  have  that 
baby." 

"I  aint  only  had  her  a  few  minutes  Jennie." 

"Well  you  have  got  to  give  her  to  me,  next. 
I  haven't  held  her  yet." 

A  loud  groan  came  from  the  suffering  sailor 
and  Mrs.  Clarke  rushed  to  his  side. 

"What  is  it  my  poor  man,"  inquired  Mrs. 
Clarke. 

"Lady,"  spoke  the  sailor,  "will  you  have  your 
man  come  to  me?  I  have  a  story  to  tell  before 
it  is  too  late." 

"Can't  you  wait  until  you  are  better?"  in 
quired  Mrs.  Clarke. 

"I  will  never  be  better,  dear  lady,  I  can  feel 
the  end  coming  on." 

Lizzie  sent  Alice  to  bring  her  husband  from 
the  wreck,  while  she  busied  herself  preparing  a 
soothing  tea  for  the  sufferer. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  27 

In  a  few  minutes  Martin  Clarke  was  seated 
by  the  bedside  of  the  dying  sailor.  The  sun  had 
burst  through  the  clouds  and  the  birds  near  the 
garden  window  were  chanting  their  welcome  in 
song. 


28  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 


Chapter  II 
The  Sailor's  Story. 

The  sailor  was  attacked  with  a  violent  spell 
of  coughing  that  brought  a  frothy  blood  colored 
foam  from  his  lips.  After  the  spasm  subsided, 
he  had  Martin  raise  his  head  on  the  pillows,  and 
spoke  as  follows: 

"Part  of  what  I  am  about  to  tell  you,  Mr. 
Clarke,  I  had  never  expected  to  confide  to  any 
man,  but  my  time  is  close  at  hand  and  I  can 
never  myself  realize  the  dreams  I  had  so  fondly 
hoped  to  some  day  realize.  My  father  was  a  fair 
ly  well  to  do  minister  of  the  gospel.  My  mother 
was  very  devout  in  her  religious  beliefs,  and  had 
set  her  heart  on  making  a  minister  of  me.  I  may 
as  well  say  that  a  boy  of  my  roving  disposition 
did  not  take  kindly  to  this  plan,  and  as  soon  as 
I  gained  courage  enough  I  ran  away  and  shipped 
cabin  boy  aboard  a  Sealer.  I  have  followed  the 
sea  ever  since  I  was  seventeen  years  old.  Making 
much  money  and  saving  none.  I  am  too  weak  to 
waste  time  on  further  detail,  save  that  I  signed 
chief  hunter  of  the  Grace  anfl  Dell  two  years  ago 
at  Sidney,  Australia.  What's  left  of  the  vessel 
lies  piled  on  the  beach  at  your  door." 

"After  leaving  Sidney,  we  sailed  in  a  north 
easterly  direction  for  many  days.  The  weather 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  29 

was  clear  and  fair  winds  gave  us  good  headway, 
until  we  arrived  near  the  Equinox  where  we  be 
came  becalmed,  for  twenty  days — not  a  breath  of 
wind  stirred.  A  heavy  tropical  fog  hung  over  the 
sea  like  a  sodden  pall.  We  lost  all  reckonings  as 
to  position  of  the  vessel.  The  drift  was  heavy. 
On  the  twenty-second  day  of  the  calm  a  wind 
sprung  up  from  the  southwest.  It  was  only  a 
sailing  breeze,  and  did  not  lift  the  fog.  For  four 
days  and  nights  we  sailed  blindly  on.  A  great 
desire  was  in  our  hearts  to  sail  out  of  the  gloomy 
pall.  On  the  fifth  day,  the  fog  cleared  but  no  sun, 
as  was  the  case  for  days  after,  our  chronometer 
had  become  defective  and  a  shot  at  the  sun  would 
not  have  given  us  our  exact  location.  The  weath 
er  was  warm  and  balmy.  A  few  days  later  a 
flock  of  sea  birds  over  head  gave  us  notice  that 
we  were  not  far  from  land.  On  the  morning  of 
July  18th,  we  sighted  land.  An  island:  but  what 
island  could  it  be.  We  had  not  taken  the  sun  or 
figured  reckonings  for  thirty-eight  days. 

Where  were  we?  Evidently  somewhere  in 
the  tropics,  but  the  tropics  are  a  large  area  of 
land  and  water.  On  the  morning  of  July  19th, 
we  dropped  anchor  off  the  entrance  of  a  large 
bay.  The  boats  were  lowered  and  I  with  the 
first  mate  and  four  sailors  pulled  ashore. 

No  trace  of  human  habitation  met  our  gaze. 
No  tell  tale  spiral  of  smoke  arose  before  us.  In 
the  glistening  sands  the  hoofs  and  paws  of  many 


30  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

animals  had  left  their  script,  but  no  human  foot 
print,  greeted  our  eyes. 

The  bushes  bordering  the  beach  were  bowed 
down  with  luscious  fruits.  The  trees  towering 
above  our  heads,  were  laden  with  nuts  and  rare 
tropical  fruits.  Everywhere  gorgeous  flowers 
mingled  their  scents  with  the  music  of  song  birds. 
We  hastily  loaded  our  boat  with  fruits  and  vege 
tables  and  returned  to  the  ship. 

The  Master  decided  to  accompany  us  on  our 
second  trip,  and  two  more  dories  were  lowered 
into  the  water  and  the  entire  ship's  company  went 
ashore." 

Another  severe  spell  of  coughing  attacked 
the  sailor,  and  Martin  busied  himself  preparing 
a  mixture  for  the  doomed  man  that  gave  him 
temporary  relief. 

"I  haven't  time  to  tell  you  of  the  beauty  of 
this  island,  dear  friends,"  he  resumed,  "only  that 
we  stayed  there  two  weeks.  On  the  third  day  of 
our  visit,  the  great  tropical  sun  shone  forth,  but 
as  the  entire  ships  company  was  ashore,  and  the 
instruments  were  aboard  the  vessel,  we  did  not 
get  our  bearings.  In  fact  the  sun  shone  brightly 
all  the  rest  of  our  stay  on  the  island.  The  skipper, 
careless  of  the  conditions,  neglected  taking  a 
shot  at  the  sun,  and  woe  to  us,  the  day  we  return 
ed  to  the  ship,  the  fog  descended  again. 

Wje  had  stored  the  vessel  with  fresh  water, 
and  all  the  delicacies  a  tropical  climate  so  lavishly 
supplies.  The  island  Was  the  most  beautiful 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  31 

spot  I  had  ever  beheld  in  all  my  travels.  Great 
veins  of  coal  cropped  out  along  the  beach.  A 
writhing  vein  of  native  copper  traced  its  way 
across  the  face  of  a  massive  rock  headline — 
in  fact  Mr  Clarke,  the  country  is  an  earthly  par 
adise.  Why  it  has  not  been  discovered  before 
and  inhabited  is  a  mystery  to  me.  But  there  it 
lies,  Mr  Clarke,  awaiting  a  claimant.  Had  I  have 
lived  to  reach  my  home  port,  I  should  with  a  few 
chosen  friends,  fitted  out  a  vessel  and  returned  to 
make  the  island  my  future  home,  and  spent  my 
days  in  ease,  and  comfort.  As  it  is  I  am  telling 
you  that  if  you  wish  you  may  take  advantage  of 
this  heaven  on  earth.  We  left  the  island  the  fol 
lowing  day,  steering  for  a  point  eastward,  ever 
hoping  to  bring  up  somewhere  on  the  coast  of 
Mexico  or  California.  But  when  we  sighted  land, 
we  found  that  we  were  near  the  entrance  of  Uni- 
mac  Pass,  a  point  in  the  Alutian  Islands. 

Twas  there,  it  was  my  good  fortune  to  rescue 
the  sweet  baby  there  in  your  daughter's  arms. 
The  boat  that  carried  the  mother  and  babe,  came 
ashore  the  day  we  dropped  anchor  at  Dutch  Har 
bor.  The  Eskimo  had  only  lifted  the  baby  from 
the  dead  mother's  breast  when  I  came  on  him. 
He  gladly  handed  me  the  child,  but  seemed  re 
luctant  to  part  with  the  walrus  skin  sack,  that 
contains  her  writings  and  treasure.  A  tobacco 
pipe  and  small  portion  of  rum  changed  his  atti 
tude  in  the  matter. 

As  I  took  the  sweet  little  angel  in  my  arms, 


32  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

she  clutched  at  the  opening  in  my  shirt  front, 
and  glued  her  tiny  pinched  lips  to  my  bronzed 
breast.  Even  a  rough  sailor  like  myself,  knew 
what  that  meant,  and  I  lost  no  time  in  securing  a 
supply  of  caribou  milk  from  a  native.  The  poor 
famished  little  creature  needed  no  teaching  to 
learn  that  food  was  in  the  rough  spoon.  From 
the  first  she  swallowed  the  milk  and  smacked  her 
sweet  little  lips  as  she  lay  in  my  arms  and  gazed 
in  my  face  with  those  great  blue  eyes.  What 
would  the  skipper  say  when  I  returned  to  the  ship. 
Surely  I  was  in  a  dilemma,  but  a  glance  in  those 
lovely  blue  eyes  decided  me.  Whither  I  went, 
the  baby  would  go  also.  Securing  a  supply  of 
Reindeer  milk  I  returned  to  the  ship.  I  will  not 
repeat  the  ridicule  I  listened  to  for  days,  while 
most  of  the  ship's  company  were  good  hearted 
fellows,  the  seeming  ridiculous  position  I  had 
placed  myself  in,  was  too  much  to  forego.  They 
called  me  everything  from  little  Nancy,  to  a  wet 
nurse.  How  Was  I  to  take  care  of  the  baby  and 
pursue  my  vocation  as  a  dory  captain.  There  was 
only  one  thing  left  for  me  to  do,  and  that  was  to 
change  places  with  the  ship's  cook,  the  lowliest 
position  on  board  the  ship.  This  I  proposed  to 
Hans,  the  cook,  and  he  gladly  accepted  the 
change,  saying  'you  will  pe  handy  ven  de  baby 
vakes  up  and  vants  to  nurse'." 

"Hans,"  I  questioned,  "do  you  think  it  is  right 
to  make  sport  of  that  motherless  baby's  condi 
tion?" 


ALICE  CLARKE 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  33 

"Vy,  Joseph,  I  dondt  made  fun.  Der  poys 
says  dey  ust  vant  make  little  fun  mit  you.  All 
der  poys  would  gif  their  lifes  for  der  little  ting." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that  Hans,"  I  replied,  "it 
makes  my  sacrifice  easier." 

"Before  I  had  exhausted  the  supply  of  Rein 
deer  milk,  we  had  a  great  mother  whale  lashed 
to  the  side  of  the  Grace  and  Dell.  Do  you  know 
it  is  difficult  to  distinguish  whale's  milk  from 
cows  milk.  Well  during  our  entire  cruise,  I  was 
supplied  with  milk  from  God's  greatest  creatures, 
to  feed  one  of  God's  tinniest  beings.  The  novelty 
of  the  baby's  presence  of  course,  never  wore  off, 
but  soon  every  member  of  the  crew  from  the 
Captain  down  learned  to  love  her.  My  greatest 
trouble  was  to  keep  them  from  filling  her  mouth 
with  all  kinds  of  treasured  delicacies,  such  as 
candy  two  years  old,  and  wedding  cake,  twenty. 
Before  the  first  ten  days  had  elapsed,  Hans  came 
to  me  and  offered  me  back  my  position  on  the 
dory  saying  he  could  look  after  the  little  Frau- 
lein  as  well  as  I.  The  wee  thing  gave  me  little 
trouble.  The  galley  fire  was  always  alight,  and 
I  served  the  little  guest  with  warm  meals  day 
and  night.  Oh!  if  I  could  only  live  to  see  her 
grow  up." 

Again  he  was  seized  with  a  spasm  of  cough 
ing  and  raised  much  blood.  I  never  like  to  think 
of  his  end.  Lizzie  had  laid  the  baby  beside  him, 
and  I  believe  few  mothers  could  have  shown  great- 


34  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

er  love  than  this  rough  sailor  bore  for  the  little 
waif. 

It  was  a  glorious  sunny  afternoon,  that  we 
laid  to  rest  the  remains  of  Joseph  DeSomer. 
The  redwood  fence  about  his  grave  on  Yaquina 
John  point,  still  marks  the  resting  place  of  the 
great  hearted  sailor. 

Much  of  the  ships  stores  had  been  salvaged 
by  the  Clarkes  and  their  neighbors,  and  the  Grace 
and  Dell  rested  easily  on  the  smooth  shingle  as 
she  would  in  her  native  element.  Nothing  was 
heard  from  the  remainder  of  the  crew  who  had 
abandoned  the  ship  off  Yaquina  Bay  Harbor,  al 
though  they  were  picked  up  later,  by  a  revenue 
cutter,  and  landed  at  San  Francisco. 

The  Marine  Underwriters  sent  in  a  man  to 
view  the  ship,  and  he  decided  she  could  not  be 
salvaged.  He  kindly  allowed  the  residents  to  keep 
the  supplies  they  had  saved.  So  the  wreck  was 
a  complete  loss  to  the  Insurance  Company. 

Summer  was  at  its  height.  The  native  song 
birds,  filled  hill  and  dale  with  their  glad  praise. 
The  flowers  scattered  their  scents  lavishly.  The 
small  streams  teemed  with  gamy  trout,  and  the 
rocks  and  flats  were  alive  with  mussels  and  clams. 
There  was  little  excuse  for  hard  labor,  and  in 
fact  little  hard  labor  was  performed.  The  sea 
cast  up  the  firewood  in  broken  fragments,  wild 
game  roamed  about  the  fields ;  shell  fish  of  many 
varieties  were  inexhaustible.  Then  why  should 
they  spoil  their  life  with  hard  labor. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  35 

The  Clarke  and  William's  men  folks  had  just 
returned  from  the  forests  with  the  hams  of  three 
bull  elks.  The  women  folks  were  arranging  the 
spruce  shake  platforms  on  which  to  dry  the  meat 
in  the  sweetening  sun. 

A  big  spelling  bee  had  been  arranged  for  the 
evening  and  people  from  Florence  and  the  Ya- 
chats  were  to  be  present.  Some  of  the  older 
folks  estimated  that  there  would  be  as  many  as 
thirty  present  at  the  big  doings.  The  young 
folks  were  impatient  with  eager  expectancy  of 
what  the  night  would  bring  forth.  Mrs.  Clarke 
and  Mrs.  Williams  hal  made  great  plates  of  pastry 
for  the  evening  feast.  This  was  made  possible 
by  a  recent  trip  of  the  Williams  boys  who  had 
packed  a  sack  of  flour  on  their  shoulders  through 
the  mountains  from  Corvallis.  A  distance  of  one- 
hundred  and  five  miles.  Nothing  was  left  to  make 
the  happiness  of  the  little  community  complete. 


36  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 


Chapter  III 
The  Land  Voyage. 

Let  the  reader  go  back  with  me  seven  years, 
and  view  with  me  the  former  home  of  our  hero, 
Hugh  Clarke.  His  parents  had  originally  come 
from  Ohio,  but  his  father  ever  of  a  roaming  na 
ture  soon  tired  of  his  surroundings,  be  they  ever 
so  pleasant  and  profitable.  He  had  formed  a  deep 
friendship  for  Gus  Williams  and  family,  and  the 
two  men  could  most  always  be  found  together 
whether  hunting  or  tilling  the  fields.  Williams 
had  first  sailed  before  the  mast,  and  after  years 
as  a  sailor,  and  mate,  had  been  made  master  of 
a  vessel  making  trips  as  far  south  as  South 
America. 

Only  the  great  love  he  bore  his  wife  could 
ever  persuade  him  to  quit  the  sea. 

On  a  dark  and  sultry  morning  after  a  half 
hurricane  had  visited  the  neighborhood,  during 
the  night,  Gus  Williams  knocked  at  the  Clarke 
door. 

"Come  in  Gus,"  sang  out  Martin  Clarke 
cheerily  from  his  corner  by  the  fireplace,  and  as 
the  neighbor  entered,  Clarke  soon  discovered  by 
the  frown  on  his  face  that  something  had  gone 
wrong.  "Morning,  Gus  old  boy,  how  goes  it?" 

"Morning  Martin.     I  am  surprised  to  see 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  37 

anything  alive  on  the  place.  The  damned  wind 
blew  down  our  cow  stable  and  killed  Ellen's  fav 
orite  cow,  Old  Molly." 

"Aint  that  too  bad,"  spoke  up  Mrs.  Clarke. 
"I'm  so  sorry  for  your  wife.  She  thought  so 
much  of  old  Mollie." 

"Yes  and  she  had  twin  calves  again  this 
spring,"  said  Williams.  "And  I  tell  you  Martin," 
he  continued,  "you  can  stay  in  this  storm  infested, 
fever  heated,  frost  bitten,  God  forsaken  country 
if  you  want  to.  I  am  for  the  sea  coast.  Don't 
care  what  sea  coast  only  its  got  to  be  salty  and 
the  climate  not  so  extreme  in  its  changes.  Why 
dang  it,  Martin,  our  thermometer  glass  is  worn 
out  by  friction  of  the  mercury  bobbing  up  and 
down  to  keep  pace  with  the  seasons." 

"You'll  think  better  of  it  in  a  few  days,  Gus, 
you  know  such  accidents  are  called  'acts  of  God,' 
and  you  would  not  be  angry  with  God  would  you, 
Gus?" 

"Now  look  here,  Martin,  don't  you  go  laying 
the  butchering  of  my  cow  onto  God.  It's  just  that 
allfired  Iowa  climate  that  killed  her,  and  it  will 
kill  the  whole  caboodle  of  us  if  we  stay  here 
long  enough.  Milt  Fleatcher  has  a  brother  that 
has  just  come  back  from  California  where  he 
has  been  mining  and  ranching.  He  says  there 
are  thousands  of  acres  of  vacant  land  lying  along 
the  Oregon  coast  that  is  covered  with  milk  and 
honey,  to  say  nothing  of  game  and  fish  and  a 
climate  that  people  live  so  long  in,  that  lots  of 

281192 


38  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

them,  when  the  Judgement  day  comes,  will  have 
to  be  shot  cause  they  will  never  die  a  natural 
death." 

"Now  look  here  Gus,  what  does  your  wife 
say  about  another  move?" 

"My  wife,  she  just  naturally  said  to  me, 
when  she  saw  poor  little  Mollie  all  bleeding  and 
crushed,  that  she  wouldn't  stay  here  another  sum 
mer,  or  winter  either,  for  all  that,  I  suppose  your 
boys  would  like  another  move." 

"Boys  are  crazy  to  go  to  the  sea,  never  saw 
salt  water  in  their  lives.  The  girls  are  as  anxious 
as  the  boys.  Fact  is,  Martin,  we're  going  Martin, 
we're  going,  and  you're  going  too." 

"Well  I  hadn't  thought  anything  about  it 
Gus." 

"Now  Martin,"  spoke  up  his  wife,  "it  was  only 
yesterday  that  you  said  you  felt  a  spell  of  wander 
lust  coming  on." 

"It  appears  like  you  are  taking  rather  kind 
ly  to  the  idea  yourself,  Lizzie." 

"Well  Gus,  old  boy,  we'll  think  it  over.  Lizzie 
get  those  canned  peaches  you  said  you  was  going 
to  send  Mrs.  Williams.  You  just  as  well  make 
Gus  pack  them  home,  because  he'll  eat  his  full 
share  of  them.  Reckon  you  won't  get  foundered 
on  peaches  out  in  Oregon,  when  you  get  there 
Gus." 

"I  wouldn't  give  a  bucket  of  razor  clams  for 
a  wagon  load  of  peaches,"  replied  Gus.  "All  the 
same,  Mrs.  Clarke's,  peaches  are  pretty  fine  when 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  39 

there  aint  any  clams  in  sight.  And  thank  you 
for  them,  I  know  that  the  wife  and  youngsters 
will  appreciate  the  gift.  Mary  got  out  a  ham  to 
send  over  to  you  this  morning  but  I  was  so  riled 
up  over  losing  the  cow,  I  walked  off  and  left  it. 
I'll  send  Jack  right  back  with  it.  Seems  as  though 
there's  nothing  to  eat  here  but  hog  meat.  What 
I  want  is  crabs  and  oysters  and  a  string  of  fresh 
ocean  trout." 

"How  many  yoke  of  oxen  have  you  now, 
Gus?" 

"Three  cracken  good  yoke,  and  a  pair  of 
young  bulls.  Want  to  buy  oxen,  Martin  ?" 

"No.  Was  just  thinking  if  we  was  going  to 
Oregon,  a  few  good  ox  teams  might  come  handy." 

"Glad  to  hear  you  talk  that  way  Martin. 
I  knew  you  would  go  with  us  Pardner." 

"I  aint  said  I  was  going,  have  I",  replied 
Martin.  "I  generally  leave  such  trifles  as  moving 
two  thousand  miles  to  Lizzie." 

"Shall  I  quote  you  a  little  scripture  on  the 
matter,  husband,"  his  wife  inquired. 

"You  and  your  scripture  are  law  with  me 
Lizzie." 

"Well  then  replied  his  wife,"  here  it  is, 
'Whither  thou  goest,  I  will  go,  and  where  thou 
lodgest,  I  will  lodge.  Thy  people',  and  so  on  you 
know  the  verse  Martin.  I  think  it  so  beautiful 
Ruth  and  Naomi." 

"Yes  thats  good  scripture,  Mr.  Clarke.  Guess 
I'll  be  going  and  tell  wife  and  the  young  fry  that 


40  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

we'll  all  be  ready  to  start  by  the  first  of  August." 

"First  of  August,  Man,  first  of  August,  why 
that  is  barely  three  weeks  off!" 

"I  can  turn  my  place  back  to  Ashworth  to 
morrow,  what  little  I've  paid  down,  he's  welcome 
to.  Aint  you  glad  you  didn't  buy  this  grub  patch 
outright,  Martin?" 

"Wpll,  I  believe  I  am,  Gus,  since  you  mention 
ed  it.  Think  I'll  drop  over  in  the  morning  and 
look  at  them  steers  of  yours,  they  ought  to  be  in 
good  shape  now." 

"Rolling  fat,  Martin,  rolling  fat,  just  pining 
for  a  little  trip  like  going  to  Oregon.  Well,  so 
long!  Martin,  so  long  folks!  See  you  tomorrow, 
Martin,"  and  before  the  front  gate  closed  behind 
Williams,  Martin  was  pacing  to  and  fro,  back  and 
forth  the  length  of  the  kitchen  floor. 

"I  believe  its  a  good  idea*  Lizzie,  wife,"  spoke 
up  Martin,  "it  isn't  as  though  you  couldn't  give 
the  children  an  education.  There  wasn't  a  pret 
tier  or  smarter  school  ma'am  in  the  State  of  Ohio 
than  you  were  when  I  made  you  give  up  your  con 
tract  and  marry  me." 

"And  I've  never  been  sorry  since,  Martin 
dear." 

"It  does  me  good  to  hear  you  say  it,  sweet 
heart."  Martin  was  not  lacking  in  affection  for 
his  good,  beautiful  wife,  and  the  look  she  gave 
him  amply  repaid  him  for  the  endearing  term  he 
had  just  applied  to  her. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  41 

"Don't  you  think  Martin,  that  baby  Hugh  is 
pretty  young  for  so  long  a  trip?" 

"If  I  thought  so  wife,  I  would  not  budge  an 
inch.  Wasn't  Clara  Williams  only  three  months 
old  when  we  left  Delphos  Ohio  and  a  puny  little 
thing  at  that,  and  after  our  four  months  on  the 
way  before  reaching  here,  look  what  a  fat,  sassy 
thing  she  was." 

"That's  so,  Martin"  replied  Mrs.  Clarke.  "I  do 
believe  the  trip  will  be  good  for  little  Hughie." 

"The  next  day  Martin  visited  the  Williams 
Ranch.  Mrs.  Williams  was  one  of  those  large 
rawboned  women,  with  a  face,  while  severe,  be 
lied  her  temperament.  She  worshipped  her  hus 
band,  and  lived  for  the  pleasure  and  comfort  she 
gave  her  children.  Although  'it  was  in  the  days 
when  spanking  was  popular,  it  was  said  she  had 
never  laid  the  weight  of  her  hand  on  one  of  her 
children.  As  a  cook,  her  fame  had  reached  far 
and  wide,  and  her  light  biscuits  and  fried  chicken 
had  served  to  bring  many  visitors  from  Tama 
City,  and  other  towns  in  the  country  who  left 
small  gifts,  as  a  token  of  their  appreciation  of  the 
banquets  she  laid  before  them,  never  daring  to 
insult  her  by  offering  pay. 

"Well  man,  Martin,"  she  greeted  Clarke, 
"how  is  the  good  Lizzie  this  morning?" 

"Better  than  ever,"  replied  he,  "if  that  is 
possible." 

"You  two  are  certainly  in  love  with  each  oth 
er,"  said  Mrs.  Williams. 


42  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

"She  certainly  did  not  marry  me  for  my  mon 
ey,  Mrs.  Williams,  as  my  entire  capital  on  the  eve 
of  our  wedding  day  consisted  of  a  pinto  pony,  and 
seven  dollars." 

"Many  a  girl  has  married  for  less  Martin, 
and  lived  happy  ever  afterward." 

"What's  this  your  husband  is  talking  of,  this 
trip  west.  What  put  it  into  his  head,  Mrs.  Will 
iams  ?" 

"Oh !  he  lays  it  onto  poor  Mollie  getting  kill 
ed,  but  I  think  he  is  glad  of  it  in  a  way,  as  it 
gives  him  an  excuse  to  go  to  the  seashore  to  live. 
Poor  man,  it's  been  awful  selfish  of  me  not  ta  see 
it  before  that  the  poor  man  is  pining  away  for 
salt  water.  Yes  Martin,  she  continued,  "We're 
going,  and  Gus  says  you  are  going  too." 

"Well  I've  about  made  up  my  mind  that  this 
climate  isn't  good  for  Lizzie." 

"Why,  Martin,  is  "Lizzie  poorly?  I  hadn't 
heard  that  she  was  ailing." 

"Oh  no  she  aint  ailing  now,  but  I  thought  she 
might  take  sick  if  we  stayed  here  too  long." 

"Now  you  Martin  Clarke,  don't  you  try  to 
lay  it  onto  Lizzie.  You  know  its  yourself  that's 
longing  for  a  change  of  pasture,  and  you  know 
that  dear  woman  would  follow  you  to  the  end  of 
the  earth." 

"Well  Martin  let's  go  and  take  a  look  at  those 
oxen.  Did  you  ever  shoe  an  ox  Martin?" 

"Shoe  an  ox,  Gus  who  ever  heard  of  shoeing 
oxen." 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  43 

"You'll  hear  of  it  before  we  cross  the  rock- 
ies.  That  box  there  beside  the  water  barrel  is 
full  of  ox  shoes.  I  aint  let  the  grass  grow  under 
my  feet  since  I  was  over  at  your  house.  Abe 
Evans  wants  to  go  with  us,  Martin,  and  Abe  is 
one  of  the  best  hunters  in  the  country,  and  he 
has  three  of  the  best  saddle  ponies  in  the  state  of 
Iowa.  His  wife  Nell  is  a  true  frontiers  woman, 
and  would  be  a  great  help  to  our  women  folks. 
What  do  you  think  about  it?" 

"The  more  the  merrier,"  replied  Martin. 

The  next  three  weeks,  were  the  busiest  ever 
experienced  by  the  Clarke  party,  so  much  was  to 
be  thought  of,  the  packing  of  clothing,  and  sup 
plies,  the  collection  of  seeds,  the  choosing  of  a 
couple  of  the  best  cows  to  take  along  for  milk, 
a  coop  of  chickens.  Some  flowers,  and  shrubbery 
from  the  gardens,  canned  fruits,  and  salt  meats, 
and  when  the  five  ox  wagons  were  loaded,  there 
was  little  space  left  other  than  what  was  used  for 
the  women  and  children. 

It  was  a  happy  care  free  party  that  left  the 
weeping  neighbor  women  standing  in  front  of  the 
Clarke  home  on  the  morning  of  August  8.  Iowa 
in  midsummer  is  ideal,  barring  a  few  hot  days, 
and  the  travelers  resolved  to  take  their  time  and 
conserve  the  strength  of  their  beasts  of  burden. 
The  first  day  they  covered  twenty-two  miles, 
and  camped  at  night  by  a  little  river  where  the 
rank  grasses  smothered  the  horses  and  oxen  with 
an  over  plentitue  of  feed. 


44  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

Bright  and  early  next  morning,  our  party 
was  on  the  way,  and  nothing  of  note  occurred 
during  the  westward  journey  until  they  reached 
the  Nebraska  state  line  at  Omaha.  There  one 
of  the  oxen  fell  sick  and  the  party  was  compelled 
to  purchase  another  at  an  exorbitant  price  as  the 
dealer  realized  their  position  took  advantage  of 
it  and  charged  almost  two  prices  for  the  beast. 
The  Union  Pacific  Railroad  had  just  been  com 
pleted  to  Ogden,  Utah  and  our  voyagers  took  ad 
vantage  of  the  fact  by  shipping  such  things  as 
would  not  be  needed  on  the  trip  to  that  point. 

The  Ezra  Meeker  trail  over  the  rocky  mount 
ains  was  to  be  the  roughest  part  of  the  journey 
and  our  friends  decided  they  would  be  lucky  if 
they  reached  Ogden  by  fall  and  camp  there  for 
the  winter.  In  the  meantime,  baby  Hugh  was  de 
veloping  into  a  fat  rugged  boy,  always  screaming 
his  delight  at  new  scenes  and  wonders  as  they 
passed  through  the  towns  and  villages  along  the 
route.  Owing  to  his  great  long  yellow  curls  and 
wonderful  childish  beauty  many  took  him  for  a 
girl,  and  the  look  of  disgust  that  shone  in  his 
face  as  one  kind  of  stranger  would  inquire  of 
Mrs.  Clarke  how  old  her  sweet  little  girl  was? 
accounted  for  his  peculiar  antipathy  for  girl  ba 
bies  displayed  by  him  in  our  opening  chapters. 
From  Fort  Kearney  Nebraska  to  the  Wyoming 
line  great  herds  )of  buffalo  jsvere  encountered. 
The  herds  Were  of  such  magnitude  at  times  it 
became  necessary  to  stop  the  teams  to  allow  them 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  45 

to  cross  the  trail.  Here  our  hunter,  Abe  Evans, 
proved  his  usefulness  by  selecting  and  bringing 
down  the  fattest  young  cows  that  supplied  the 
travelers  constantly  with  the  choicest  wild  meat 
known  to  man. 

It  was  later  than  usual  on  a  Sunday  evening 
when  Clarke  called  a  halt  for  the  day.  The  scene 
was  laid  along  a  small  mountain  torrent  in  the 
foot  hills  of  the  rockies.  Everywhere  the  grass 
and  flowers  were  becoming  bronzed  and  gray 
with  the  dull  lustre  of  autumn. 

A  great  band  of  antelope  only  startled  for  a 
time  by  the  approach  of  the  party,  had  settled 
down  to  graze  at  a  distance  of  less  than  a  half 
mile  from  the  new  made  camp.  Already  the 
tents  had  been  set  and  the  oxen  and  horses  hob 
bled.  The  women  with  the  assistance  of  the  men 
were  preparing  a  big  feast  of  fresh  wild  meats. 
The  children  were  gathered  together  under  a 
large  pinion  pine,  and  were  singing  in  union  in 
their  lusty  young  voices. 

"Oh  my  Poor  Nellie  Gray,  They  have  taken 
you  away, 

And  I'll  never  see  my  Nellie  any  more, 

They  have  taken  you  to  Georgia,  for  to  wear 
your  life  away 

Farewell  to  the  old  Kentucky  shore." 

Out  from  the  falling  twilight  there  came  a 
series  of  savage  yells  that  stopped  the  song,  and 
brought  fear  and  awe  to  the  faces  of  the  women, 
and  determination  on  the  brows  of  the  men.  The 


46  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

Indians,  for  such  they  were,  rode  furiously  into 
the  center  of  the  camp.  There  were  twelve  in  all, 
large,  strong  young  bucks.  The  leader  a  tall  typi 
cal  Sioux  Chief,  slipped  lightly  from  the  back  of 
his  pony,  and  with  a  guttural  "How",  extended 
his  hand  to  Clarke  for  a  shake.  Clarke  met  the 
extended  hand  with  his  own  and  in  the  best  words 
known  to  him  in  the  Sioux  language,  bid  the  visit 
ors  welcome.  The  warriors  were  not  in  war  feath 
ers  or  paint,  and  it  was  evident  they  had  come  on 
the  Clarke  party  by  accident.  After  a  short  talk 
the  leader  who  showed  signs  of  partial  intoxi 
cation  demanded  that  the  party  give  them  their 
horses,  offering  nothing  in  return  for  the  animals. 
At  this  Nlell  Evans  drew  near  to  the  center  of  the 
group,  and  the  gleam  of  fire  in  her  eyes  betokened 
she  was  not  taking  kindly  to  the  Indians  proposal. 
The  Indians  were  all  armed  with  rifles  that  were 
modern  at  that  time  and  to  precipitate  a  fight 
meant  an  unequal  conflict  that  must  mean  dis 
aster  to  our  party. 

Clarke  had  noticed  the  angry  flash  in  Mrs. 
Evans'  eyes,  and  with  much  caution  he  managed 
to  keep  her  quiet,  as  he  realized  that  discretion  in 
the  matter  meant  everything  to  his  party.  The 
Indians  were  well  supplied  with  firewater  pro 
cured  on  a  recent  trip  to  Cheyenne,  and  time  was 
not  improving  their  tempers. 

Clarke  had  explained  as  best  he  could  that  a 
loss  of  the  ponies  meant  disaster  to  the  party, 
and  he  hoped  to  appease  them  with  gifts,  that 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  47 

could  be  better  spared.  This  the  Indians  refused 
to  consider,  and  there  seemed  nothing  left  for  the 
party  to  do,  but  give  up  the  horses  to  the  red 
thieves. 

Nell  Evans  had  left  the  group  some  time  pre 
vious  and  now  to  the  surprise  of  all  appeared  in 
their  midst  in  a  masquerade  ball  suit  representing 
the  Spirit  of  Dawn.  The  Clarke  and  Williams 
women  folk  had  seen  the  attire  but  to  the  men 
folks,  Indians,  and  all,  it  came  as  a  surprise  from 
heaven.  She  addressed  the  young  Chief,  in  the 
Sioux  language,  a  feat  not  unusual  for  the  border 
frontiersman,  as  her  family  belonged  to  that 
class. 

With  a  majestic  wave  of  her  arms  she  com 
manded  silence.  The  awkward  attitude  and  ges 
tures  of  the  young  savages  was  proof  that  she 
was  regarded  by  them  as  a  spirit.  In  silvery 
words  though  firm  and  without  emotion  she  spoke 
as  follows: 

"Young  Men !  Braves !  Warriors !  Of  the  great 
Sioux  Nation,  I  am  Chelociti,  your  princess  of 
five  hundred  moons  agone.  The  great  chiefs  of 
the  greatest  nation  fell  at  my  feet  in  worship, 
only  your  avowed  act  of  robbing  this  poor  band  of 
white  people  could  call  me  so  far  from  my  temple 
in  the  happy  hunting  ground  to  point  out  to  you 
the  great  wrong  you  propose  to  do  these  white 
brothers  who  have  not  wronged  you  or  yours  in 
passing  through  your  country  in  search  for  a 
home  for  their  families  on  the  shore  of  the  Great 


48  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

Salt  Chuck  in  the  land  of  the  Setting  Sun.  Your 
forefathers  are  with  me  in  the  Happy  Hunting 
Grounds.  Men  who  fought  and  killed  to  preserve 
their  lodges  and  rights,  but  knowing  all  that  pass 
es  in  life,  though  to  you  dead,  they  see  your  mis 
take  and  have  sent  me  to  warn  you  not  to  rob  this 
people  of  their  horses,  as  there  are  squaws  and 
pappooses  amongst  them,  and  the  winter  ap 
proaches,  and  taking  from  them  their  cayuses 
means  hunger  and  death  to  all  you  who  should  be 
brave  warriors.  Heed  the  word  of  the  spirit  of 
Chelocti,  and  many  great  favors  shall  befall  you, 
Braves  of  the  Sioux  Nation.  Chelocti  has  spoken." 

For  a  moment  all  stood  with  bowed  heads, 
the  travelers  at  what  would  be  the  outcome  of 
Mrs.  Evans'  ruse,  the  young  Indians,  seemed 
deeply  impressed  and  about  to  accede  to  the  wish 
es  of  Mrs.  Evans. 

At  this  a  heavily  built  young  Indian  stepped 
to  the  front.  It  was  evident  he  had  been  drink 
ing  heavily.  His  words  fell  from  his  lips  in  a 
drunken  mumble,  and  Clarke  on  closer  inspection 
detected  a  ring  of  white  flesh  peeping  above  his 
tanned  skin  shirt.  It  was  evident  he  was  a  white 
man  of  the  type  of  squaw  men  so  frequently  found 
in  those  days  living  the  life  of  an  Indian  from 
choice.  And  responsible  for  much  of  the  deviltry 
performed  by  their  red  comrades. 

"Brothers",  spoke  up  the  disguised  white 
man  "we  will  take  the  pale  faces  horses,  then  if 
the  spirits  of  the  Red  Man's  forefathers  are  dis- 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  49 

pleased  they  will  send  us  a  token,  and  we  can  re 
turn  them.  It  is  only  right  we  should  have  fur 
ther  proof  that  the  spirit  Chelocti  comes  from  our 
forefathers." 

After  little  further  parley  the  saddle  horses 
of  the  travelers  were  rounded  up  and  their  hobbles 
removed  and  the  party  of  redskins  with  smiles 
and  rough  jests  left  the  party  with  the  confiscated 
horses. 

"Clarke!"  spoke  up  Evans,  "Are  you  going 
to  let  that  damned  bunch  of  red  skins  steal  my 
horses  without  an  effort  to  save  them?" 

"Never  mind,  Abe,"  spoke  up  Nell  Evans, 
"I  think  I  have  a  plan  to  get  the  horses  back." 

"What  is  it  Nell?"  inquired  her  husband. 

"Oh  you  just  wait  until  the  hour  of  twelve 
tonight." 

"Why  wait,  Nell?" 

"Well,  replied  his  wife,  "it  is  the  Indians  Mys 
tery  hour." 

At  this  Charley  Clarke  stepped  into  view  and 
informed  his  hearers  that  the  band  of  red  skins 
had  camped  for  the  night  some  two  miles  up  the 
stream.  It  seems  he  had  followed  them  with 
the  idea  of  formulating  some  plan  in  which  to  re 
cover  the  horses. 

"Now  I  want  you  men  folks  to  leave  this 
matter  of  getting  the  horses  back  all  to  me,"  said 
Mrs.  Evans.  "I  know  more  of  the  Sioux  nature 
than  all  of  you  others  placed  together.  I  suppose 
you  don't  know  that  my  father  was  Indian  agent 


50  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

at  Fort  Fred  Steele  for  six  years.  And  if  it  hadn't 
of  been  for  that  white  devil  with  them,  my  first 
ruse  would  have  saved  the  stock  as  it  is,  I  will 
make  the  whole  bunch  pay  the  penalty  with  their 
lives.  It  is  the  only  way  to  make  real  good  In 
dians  anyway." 

"How  is  that?  Nell."  inquired  Abe. 

"By  making  them  dead  Indians."  replied  his 
wife. 

"I  suppose  you  will  challenge  a  dozen  drunk 
en  braves  to  mortal  combat  with  swords,"  sneer- 
ingly  spoke  her  husband. 

"Where  is  that  ten  pound  can  of  rifle  pow 
der?"  inquired  his  wife.  "Get  the  powder  and 
about  two  feet  of  fuse.  Insert  the  fuse  in  the 
can,  that's  all  you  need  do,  then  trust  the  rest 
to  me." 

"Do  you  think  I  am  going  to  let  you  go 
amongst  that  band  of  thieving  murderers?" 
spoke  up  her  husband. 

"Of  course  you  will  or  my  plans  will  be  a 
failure."  "You  see",  continued  Nell,  "the  Indians 
were  all  impressed  and  the  white  man  is  half  con 
vinced,  for  how  could  an  Indian  Princess  Spir 
it  appear  to  them  accompanied  by  a  band  of  white 
men?" 

"No  Ike,  I  go  alone,  but  will  return  with  the 
pintos  and  also  choose  a  few  of  their  best  ponies 
for  interest  and  trouble  over  the  deal." 

Evans  was  reluctant  to  let  Nell  go,  but  as  she 
consented  to  let  him  go  part  way  and  wait  for  her, 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  51 

they  left  the  group  about  the  fire.  Evans  with 
the  powder  can  on  his  shoulder,  and  Nell  at  his 
side  masked  and  garbed  as  before  as  the  spirit 
of  dawn. 

The  trail  was  new  to  them,  leading  beside  the 
miniature  mountain  torrent.  The  scent  of  au 
tumn  was  about.  The  stars  had  formed  a  chorus 
of  jingling  twinkle.  The  great  rocky  mountain 
moon  had  placed  its  forefoot  on  the  first  rung 
of  the  ladder  of  the  horizon. 

"Look  here  Nell,  I  can't  let  you  do  this.  You 
brave  little  darling.  Stop  a  moment  here  sweet 
heart,  under  these  heavenly  diamonds.  I  must 
feel  you  in  my  arms.  I  want  to  know  you  will 
always  be  there,  you  brave  little  pardner.  Let 
the  cussed  horses  go,  Nellie  dear,  let  'em  go,  I 
say.  There  isn't  horses  enough  in  the  world  to 
pay  me  for  a  moments  suspense.  Come  Nellie, 
let's  go  back."  The  lover,  husband  emphasized 
his  plea  with  a  hug  and  a  lingering  kiss  that 
would  have  been  sufficient  to  change  the  mind 
of  most  women. 

"You  dear  old  Ike,  those  hugs  and  kisses 
are  as  good  as  ever,  even  improved  with  age, 
but  Isaac,  Boy!  there  isn't  the  least  chance  of 
danger.  I  know  how  to  handle  those  superstitious 
red  villians,  and  I  will  place  that  squaw  man 
fiend  where  he  will  get  an  early  reckoning  for 
doubting  my  authority  from  the  Happy  Hunting 
Ground."  "There  is  their  camp  fire,  Ike,  not  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  up  the  stream.  You  must  not 


52  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

go  further  husband,  dear  or  it  may  spoil  all.  Give 
me  a  kiss  my  big  brave  lover,  and  wait  here 
until  the  spirit  of  the  dawn  returns." 

Unmarried  sweethearts  who  think  they  have 
a  monopoly  on  true  parting  kisses  would  have  that 
illusion  dispelled  could  they  have  witnessed  the 
parting  of  Evans  and  his  sweet  wife  Nellie. 

She  hadn't  gone  many  rods  on  her  way  when 
the  crooning  hum  of  a  Sioux  war  song  rang  on 
her  ears.  Nellie  Evans  had  heard  these  gurgling 
attempts  at  music  many  times  in  her  early  child 
hood  and  was  little  affected  by  them. 

On  approaching  the  camp  fire  she  skirted 
about  the  band  of  braves  until  she  reached  a  tall 
pine  tree  right  in  their  midst,  as  the  war  chant 
ceased,  she  stepped  before  them  in  the  full  light 
of  the  fire,  as  though  she  had  descended  from 
heaven. 

"The  Great  Spirit  is  angry  with  his  Braves 
and  has  sent  me  again  to  warn  you."  Before 
Nellie  had  reached  the  camp  fire  of  the  Indians 
she  had  stopped  and  hollowed  out  a  little  hole 
about  sixteen  inches  deep  and  large  enough  to 
contain  the  can  of  powder.  She  now  placed  the 
can  of  powder  in  the  hole  leaving  the  end  of  the 
fuse  at  the  surface.  She  then  placed  a  few  dry 
leaves  and  twigs  over  the  spot  leaving  the  surface 
of  the  ground  natural.  All  about  the  country 
abounded  in  small  round  boulders  of  Grey  Gran 
ite  hurled  or  carried  there  by  the  rush  of  some 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  53 

swollen  stream  or  distant  volcano.    Her  prepara 
tion  had  been  swift  and  complete. 

This  second  appearance  of  the  princess's 
Spirit  at  the  Mystic  Hour  of  midnight,  had  its 
effect  on  the  half  sobered  band.  The  white  im 
postor  had  little  or  nothing  to  say.  As  the  dying 
effects  of  the  white  man's  fire  water  had  unstrung 
his  nerves;  and  left  him  the  ignorant  coward  he 
was  by  nature. 

"The  Spirit  of  the  Great  Father  asks  me  to 
bring  you  proof  of  his  displeasure,"  continued 
Nellie.  "At  a  little  distance  from  here  he  has 
commanded  that  you  shall  build  a  fire  of  pinion 
pine  boughs.  When  you  have  built  an  altar  about 
the  fire  of  rounded  rocks,  and  the  moon  reaches 
just  over  the  cedar  on  the  left  of  the  gulch,  the 
form  and  spirit  of  the  Grand  Father  of  Sitting 
Bull  will  appear  and  give  you  council.  Come 
with  me  braves  of  the  Sioux  Nation  that  the  spir 
it  of  Chilocti  may  prove  that  her  lips  are  not 
stained  with  a  lie." 

With  reluctant  grunts  the  twelve  half  sober 
ed  Indians  arose  to  their  feet  and  followed  the 
fantastically  garbed  woman  to  the  spot  where 
she  had  buried  the  can  of  rifle  powder. 

"It  is  here  where  the  full  moon  will  find  a 
trail  for  its  rays,  through  the  boughs  of  this  great 
hemlock,  that  the  spirit  of  the  great  chief  orders 
you  to  build  your  fire  and  shrine.  Gather  the 
fallen  boughs  of  the  mountain  pinion  and  place 


54  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

them  on  this  spot  amongst  the  rounded  stone 
cast  here  by  the  evil  spirit." 

Soon  a  fire  was  blazing  over  the  concealed  can 
and  each  was  directed  that  he  should  place  a  half 
dozen  of  the  ball  like  stones  at  the  rim  of  the  fire 
and  as  an  individual  shrine  so  that  each  might  see 
and  hear  for  himself  the  message  of  the  great 
spirit.  "It  is  ordered  that  I  must  retire,"  spoke 
Chelocti,  "as  the  great  spirit  doesn't  permit  the 
presence  of  a  squaw  in  his  great  councils." 

She  now  withdrew  a  hundred  paces  and  stood 
behind  a  great  alder,  awaiting  developments.  The 
time  dragged  slowly  for  her,  and  the  savages 
were  beginning  to  complain  they  believed  it  a 
hoax,  when  a  roar  of  fury  filled  the  canyon  with 
flame  and  smoke  and  granite  balls.  One  of  the 
hardened  stone  cut  a  limb  from  the  tree  under 
which  Nellie  was  standing  and  it  fell  at  her  feet. 
A  scream  of  pain  and  terror  arose  from  the  dead 
and  dying  red  thieves,  and  as  Nellie  stepped  from 
her  hiding  place  she  ran  into  the  arms  of  her 
anxious  husband. 

"I  couldn't  wait  any  longer,  Nellie  girl,  all 
the  horses  and  cattle  on  earth  could  not  keep  me 
from  you.  But  come  wife,  your  trap  has  done 
its  work  well.  There  isn't  a  groan  left,  they  are 
all  good  Indians  now  so  come  dearest,  we  will  se 
cure  the  horses  and  back  to  camp.  You  must 
have  sleep  and  rest." 

On  their  arrival  at  the  Clarke  camp  with  the 
horses  they  found  all  awake  and  anxiously  await- 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  55 

ing  the  return  of  the  Evans  excepting  the  small 
children. 

Mrs.  Clarke  took  Nellie  Evans  in  her  arms 
and  kissed  her  as  only  a  mother  knows  how  to 
kiss  another  woman. 

When  it  is  known  that  Nellie  Evans',  father 
mother  and  two  brothers  were  slaughtered  in  cold 
blood  by  the  cruel  Sioux  Indians,  and  that  she 
herself  had  been  captured  and  mistreated  by  the 
hellish  band,  one  can  understand  the  brave  wom 
an  had  little  scruples  of  visiting  vengeance  on  the 
murderous  tribe. 

It  was  a  happy  party  that  left  the  encamp 
ment  on  the  following  morning.  Thus  far  the 
families  had  escaped  sickness.  A  strange  thing 
as  few  those  days  crossed  the  mountains  with 
out  an  attack  of  mountain  fever.  Their  trail 
led  over  what  was  then  and  is  still  now  the  most 
picturesque  scenery  in  the  United  States,  the 
softened  chime  of  the  surging  brooks  mingled 
with  the  glad  song  of  wild  birds.  The  air  was 
cool  and  bracing  during  the  day  it  was  warmed 
and  sweetened  by  the  light  mists  of  the  forests 
gorges.  The  soft  warm  breezes  still  had  power  to 
kiss  the  mountain  roses  into  bloom.  Mountain 
lion  and  bear  were  numerous,  along  the  mountain 
roads,  and  it  was  a  constant  source  of  worry  to 
the  good  women  of  the  party  to  keep  the  children 
from  straying  from  the  camps  or  wagons.  As 
either  of  the  beasts  in  the  late  seasons  are  known 


56  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

to  be  savage  and  not  adverse  to  making  a  meal 
on  human  flesh. 

Occasionally  a  squatter  was  found  along  the 
creek  bottoms  who  had  hewn  himself  a  garden 
patch  from  the  rich  beaver  dam  loam,  and  here 
vegetables  and  sometimes  fresh  fruits  could  be 
procured  for  the  asking.  The  hospitality  of  those 
days  now  remains  as  a  sweet  memory,  for,  Alas! 
how  things  have  changed. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  57 


Chapter  IV 
Paul  Likens 

The  nights  were  growing  colder  and  the  days 
were  losing  themselves  in  the  early  twilight 
gloom.  For  whole  weeks  our  travelers  never  ran 
across  a  human.  They  were  drawing  near  the 
summit  of  the  rockies.  Fort  Laramie  on  the 
broad  Laramie  plains  had  attracted  the  travelers 
for  a  days  visit.  Fort  Fred  Steel  had  made  a 
coal  strike  and  quite  a  boom  was  on.  Rawlins, 
Wyo.  was  being  talked  of  as  a  sight  for  the  state 
Penitentiary  and  was  alive  with  politicians  of 
the  day.  Green  River  amongst  the  sage  brush 
and  sand  dunes  was  a  favorite  winter  stop  for 
continental  tourists,  but  our  party  decided  to 
push  on  to  the  Salt  Lake  country  and  pitch  their 
camp  for  the  winter.  The  great  forest  meadows 
of  the  Salt  Lake  Country,  were  still  fresh  with 
feed  for  the  beasts.  And  our  travelers  reached 
Salt  Lake  City  in  the  latter  part  of  October  some 
what  worn  and  jaded  but  in  good  health  and 
spirits. 

Mormonism  was  at  its  heighth.  Many  mys 
terious  crimes  were  being  committed.  The  Gen 
tile  element  was  sadly  in  the  minority  and  laws 
ruled  by  the  Church  have  never  been  a  success. 

It  was  not  uncommon  for  the  father  of  a 


58  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

family  to  turn  up  missing  especially  if  it  was 
known  he  was  antagonistic  to  the  Mormon  faith. 
And  it  was  but  a  short  time  until  the  unprotected 
family  were  forcibly  drawn  into  the  Mormon 
Church,  but  much  has  been  written  on  this  sub 
ject  so  I  will  hurry  over  the  Clarke  party  in  the 
Mormon  Capitol,  and  awake  with  them  on  a 
bright  May  morning  in  1871.  The  teams  were 
in  excellent  condition,  the  men  had  worked  much 
of  the  winter  and  the  partially  depleted  funds 
were  much  strengthened  by  the  high  wages  paid 
those  willing  to  work.  The  yokes  were  on  the 
oxen,  the  saddle  horses  were  bedecked  in  their 
gayest  blankets.  The  children  were  running 
about  in  anxious  expectancy  of  the  early  start. 
Great  triangles  of  wild  geese  filled  the  air  over 
head.  The  Northwest  wind  forcing  them  so 
close  to  earth  you  could  see  their  beady  eyes,  as 
they  gave  and  answered  calls  from  their  leaders. 

"Those  wild  birds  remind  me  of  ourselves 
Clarke,"  spoke  up  Williams,  "They're  on  a  great 
journey  with  little  knowledge  of  where  they  will 
land." 

"That's  where  you're  wrong,  Williams,  those 
birds  know  the  exact  spot  on  which  they  will 
land.  Perhaps  last  year  was  their  first  trip  from 
the  nesting  grounds  in  the  Arctic.  They  have 
much  advantage  over  us,  for  instinct  has  taught 
them  that  away  from  civilization  there  is  little 
danger  from  man  and  food  never  fails  them.  I 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  59 

love  their  care  free  nature,  and  roving  disposi 
tion." 

"I  love  roast  duck  better,"  answered  Will 
iams,  "so  I  will  hunt  up  Evans  and  the  dog  and 
we  will  light  out  ahead  to  the  Alder  Creek  bluff 
and  bag  a  few  of  those  fat  specimens  from  the 
green  fields  of  the  southern  states.  Let  Willie 
drive  my  team  until  you  overtake  me." 

"Be  you  all  goin'  west  ?  I  mean  goin'  further 
west  than  this?",  inquired  a  tall  slim  young  fel 
low  that  had  just  approached  them. 

"Well  yes,"  answered  Clarke,  "We  expect  to 
go  west  to  the  jumping  off  place  in  western  Ore 
gon,  where  the  rising  tide  of  the  Pacific  folds 
over  the  shores  of  that  great  territory." 

"Could  you  take  along  another  man  ?  I  got  my 
own  hoss  and  saddle  an'  a  clean  roll  of  blankets, 
and  I  ben  workin'  here  all  winter  an'  I  got  a  fairly 
scrumptious  roll  o'  cash." 

"Well  I  don't  know  friend,  but  what  we 
might  consider  an  addition  to  our  party  of  one. 
Have  you  any  special  line  of  trade?" 

"Oh  yes,"  replied  the  stranger,  "I'll  trade 
anything,  trade  my  hoss  or  saddle,  would  swap 
my  blanket,  but  what  I  want  most  is  to  git  out 
to  the  big  Ocean.  I  want  to  hear  her  bile." 

"I  didn't  mean  to  inquire  if  you  had  any  trad 
ing  stock,  what  I  wanted  to  know  if  you  worked 
at  any  particular  trade." 

"Wall  you  see  that  new  store  buildin'  over 
there  on  the  corner  of  Salt  Lake  Avenue?  Wall 


60  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

I  reckon  I  bilt  that,  thet  is  I  laid  it  out  and  done 
all  the  finishing  work.  Never  learned  the  trade, 
it  jes  come  to  me  nachelly.  All  the  folks  in  old 
Virginnie  put  up  an  awful  holler  when  I  left.  Said 
I  had  a  great  future  before  me,  but  I  got  to  pinin' 
for  the  west.  Kin  I  come  along?" 

This  boy  seemed  like  a  godsend  to  Clarke 
and  without  waiting  to  consult  the  other  mem 
bers  of  the  party,  he  directed  the  young  southern 
er  to  take  charge  of  Evans'  team  until  they  over 
took  Abe. 

The  road  out  of  the  valley  of  the  great  Salt 
Lake,  is  on  a  gentle  incline  through  patches  of 
sage  brush  and  along  fertile  streams.  At  the 
crossing  on  Alder  Creek  they  found  Evans  with 
a  full  score  of  fat  geese,  and  the  prospect  of  roast 
goose  for  supper  was  assured.  Evans  and  Will 
iams  were  delighted  with  the  acquisition  of  the 
southern  boy  who  gave  his  name  as  Paul  Likens, 
and  a  more  willing  young  man,  never  joined  any 
party,  and  it  gave  the  oldest  Clarke  girl,  Alice, 
an  excuse  to  wear  one  of  her  best  calicos  for  a 
week. 

There  isn't  much  to  write  about  between 
Salt  Lake  and  Pocatello,  Idaho,  and  the  scenery 
from  Pocatello  to  Baker  City,  Oregon  is  sage 
brush,  sage  hens,  and  sand  dunes.  Who  can  por 
tray  the  delight  of  the  Clarke  party  as  they 
reached  the  banks  of  the  glorious  Columbia  Riv 
er,  made  famous  in  prose  and  song  from  the  days 
of  Lewis  and  Clarke  to  the  present  time.  Our 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  61 

party  soon  fell  in  with  straggling  teams,  and  oc 
casionally  they  came  across  a  small  settlement  of 
pioneers  hewing  out  the  future  great  state  of  Ore 
gon.  Fish  and  game  had  never  been  scarce  on 
the  entire  trip,  but  here  it  was  over  abundant. 
Already  luscious  fruits  were  bearing,  and  to  say 
the  pioneers  of  the  Oregon  earlier  history,  suf 
fered  for  food  is  to  misrepresent  conditions. 

The  boy  Hugh  had  waxed  fat  and  hearty  on 
the  trip,  and  often  walked  for  miles  clasping  the 
hand  of  his  favorite  sister  Alice,  asking  questions 
that  would  puzzle  a  wiser  head  than  his  sister 
Alice  possessed. 

"What  do  girls  have  long  hair  for,  sis?"  in 
quired  the  boy. 

"Oh  I  don't  know,  Hughie." 

"Do  girls  like  to  kiss  boys,  Alice?" 

"Why  of  course  not,  Hughie." 

"Then  why  did  you  kiss  that  Paul  Likens, 
last  night?" 

"Why  Hughie  Clarke,  I  didn't  kiss  Paul  Lik 
ens.  How  dare  you  say  such  a  thing." 

"Don't  people  kiss  when  they  put  their 
mouths  together?" 

"I  didn't  kiss  him,  Hughie.  He  kissed  me, 
brother." 

"Don't  girls  ever  kiss  boys,  Alice?" 

"Oh,  I  suppose  so,  Hugh." 

"Is  a  girl  more  ashamed  than  a  boy,  sister?" 

"Oh  stop,  Hughie,  your  talk  makes  me  tired." 


62  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

"Do  girls  pretend  more  than  boys,  Alice?" 
"Pretend  what?" 

"Pretend  they  don't  want  to  kiss,  when  they 
do." 

"Hughie  I'll  put  you  back  in  the  wagon,  if  you 
don't  hush  up." 

"What  does  girls  get  married  for  Alice?" 

"Because  they  are  in  love,  brother." 

"Are  you  in  love  Alice?" 

"Now,  Hugh  you  just  get  right  into  that 
wagon.  I'm  tired  of  your  silly  talk.  To  think  of 
a  boy  of  your  age,  not  yet  three  years  old,  should 
ask  such  questions.  Who  put  such  thoughts  into 
your  head  brother?" 

"Well  there's  one  thing  sister.  I'll  never 
marry  no  girl.  Never.  If  I  had  a  pair  of  pants 
instead  of  this  calico  slip,  I'd  run  off  and  kill  bears 
and  Indians.  Why  don't  mother  cut  off  my  long 
hair,  Alice?"  And  the  baby  boy  prattled  along 
in  talk  far  beyond  his  years  it  was  plain  to  be 
seen  his  boyish  vanity  had  been  rudely  shocked 
by  being  taken  so  often  for  a  girl,  in  his  calico 
slips,  and  long  curly  hair.  • 

Over  the  lurid  wash  of  desert,  flamed  the 
midday  sun.  A  blaze  of  vivid  scarlet  was  forming 
in  the  southeast.  Great  waves  of  heated  air  came 
over  the  desert  trail.  Now  and  then  the  curious 
blaze  in  the  west  shut  from  view  the  heated  sun. 
Quickly  a  parching  wind  commenced  to  blow  from 
the  south.  The  heated  sand  cut  the  faces  of  our 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  63 

travelers,  like  shot  from  a  bird  gun.  The  cattle 
became  unmanageable,  and  bellowed  in  their  pain. 
Not  a  tree  or  friendly  rock  was  in  sight  to  lend 
refuge  from  the  fiery  blasts.  Up  to  midnight 
the  great  sand  storm  continued  in  its  fury.  When 
just  at  daybreak  the  glorious  rains  of  eastern 
Oregon  began  to  descend,  coaxing  back  to  life  the 
withered  shrubbery  of  the  Oregon  desert,  it  was 
the  first  Oregon  rain  ever  experienced  by  our 
party,  and  it  lasted  four  days  and  nights. 

Wild  fruits  and  flowers  showed  their  pleasure 
in  their  ravishing  colors  and  perfumes. 

"They  don't  have  the  sand  storm  down  by 
the  sea,  Lizzie,"  quoth  Martin.  "Although  it 
rains  quite  often,  during  the  winter  months.  Are 
you  sorry  we  are  making  the  trip  my  good  wife  ?" 

"Sorry  Martin!  Am  I  ever  sorry  to  be  with 
you?" 

"No  I  didn't  mean  that,  Lizzie,  Girl.  I  was 
just  thinking  you  might  be  homesick  for  the  folks 
left  behind." 

"I  will  never  be  homesick  while  I  am  with 
my  husband  and  children,  Martin,  and  this  grand 
Columbia  River,  makes  me  forget  everything  but 
you  and  the  children." 

The  party  camped  near  the  Dalles,  and  sev 
eral  days  were  spent  in  catching  the  great  royal 
Chinook  salmon  of  the  spring  run,  the  choicest 
fish  known  to  man.  Our  party  captured  several, 
that  weighed  over  sixty  pounds  each,  and  it  was 
with  great  reluctance  the  women  gave  up  the 


64  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

camp,  never  dreaming  that  the  nearer  they  drew 
to  the  Ocean,  the  more  plentiful  the  salmon 
would  be  or  they  would  not  have  loaded  down 
their  moving  larder  with  salt  and  pickled  fish. 

Less  than  ten  days  brought  the  Clarke  party 
to  Portland,  a  village  of  considerable  proportion 
even  at  that  time,  and  as  the  fall  rains  had  not 
yet  started  in,  it  was  decided  to  continue  the  jour 
ney  to  the  sea-coast.  A  party  of  sportsmen  had 
just  returned  from  Yaquina  Bay,  and  Evans  on 
talking  with  them  had  learned  much  of  the  lay  of 
the  country  known  now  as  Lincoln  County,  and 
undoubtedly  the  most  beautiful  stretch  of  Ocean 
frontage  on  the  Pacific  slope.  The  Alsea  River 
and  the  Yachats  were  the  localities  most  favor 
ably  spoken  of  by  the  returned  sportsmen,  and 
their  praises  of  these  localities  caused  Evans  to 
take  Clarke  and  Williams  into  the  town  and  intro 
duce  them  to  the  hunters.  After  a  half  hours 
talk  it  was  decided  by  our  party  to  head  for  the 
coast  at  the  mouth  of  Alsea  Bay. 

The  road  led  through  the  famous  Willamette 
Valley  to  Corvallis,  thence  to  Philomath.  All 
small  settlements  rather  than  villages,  and  thence 
direct  to  the  mountains,  at  the  head  of  the  fam 
ous  Alsea  river,  and  only  fifty  miles  to  the  Grand 
old  Pacific. 

I  will  not  take  space  to  repeat  the  cries  of 
delight  with  which  our  party  greeted  each  new 
marvel  in  nature.  There  was  nothing  left  to 


HUGH  AND  ABE 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  65 

charm  the  mind  and  soothe  the  soul  of  the  oldest 
to  the  youngest.  In  two  more  days,  their  journey 
would  be  at  an  end. 

Just  before  twelve  o'clock  noon  on  October 
26,  the  Clarke  party  stuck  an  American  flag  in 
the  beach  sands  just  south  of  the  Alsea  Bay,  and 
near  the  famous  big  stump,  that  stands  out  in  the 
Ocean  beach  alone,  and  mysterious.  Many  have 
been  the  opinions  expressed  as  to  whence  it  came, 
and  of  what  kind  of  wood  it  is  composed.  It  is 
known  the  Siwash  Indians  worshipped  it.  And  it 
will  be  remembered  that  this  is  the  big  stump 
mentioned  in  our  first  chapter. 


66  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 


Chapter  V 
The  Miser's  Death. 

"Whew  aint  it  an  awful  jam,  Nellie?"  said 
Alice  Clarke  to  Mrs  Evans,  the  evening  of  the  do 
ings  and  dance  at  Yachats. 

"I  should  say  it  is,  Alice.  Ike  has  counted 
them,  there  are  twenty-eight  grown  people,  be 
sides  the  children.  This  is  a  larger  crowd  than 
attended  Mrs.  Henman's  funeral  at  Florence,  and 
there  were  people  there  from  all  over  the  coast." 

"Be  you  goin'  to  be  busy  for  a  few  minutes, 
Alice?",  inquired  Paul  Likens,  "Ef  ye  aint,  I'd 
like  ter  have  you  walk  over  to  the  rocks  with  me 
gal." 

"Why  all  right  Paul,  I  guess  Kellie  can  spare 
me,"  and  as  they  left  the  huge  log  cabin,  Paul 
said: 

"Alice,  girl,  I've  follered  you  from  Salt  Lake 
City,  to  the  Pacific.  I  tried  to  do  my  duty  by  you, 
and  your  people.  I've  only  been  alive  gal,  when 
you  have  been  in  my  sight.  It  is  now  over  four 
years,  since  my  great  love  for  you  began.  Still 
you  seem  further  from  me  than  you  did  on  that 
starlight  night  when  I  kissed  you,  'way  back  in 
Idaho." 

"Yes,  and  Hughie  caught  you  at  it,  and  threw 
it  up  to  me  the  next  day." 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  67 

"Alice  dear,  you  must  know  of  my  great  love, 
I  must  know  my  fate,  tonight.  I  can't  bear  to 
see  you  dancing  with  that  Jack  Fletcher.  I  know 
he  is  better  educated  than  I,  but  your  mother  has 
taken  great  pains  with  me,  and  I  never  say 
'youall',  any  more,  Alice.  Can't  you  love  me  a 
little?" 

The  girl  stood  there  shrouded  in  the  purple 
wine  of  mellow  thought,  she  knew  she  had  long 
cared  for  this  southern  genius,  but  she  was  re 
luctant  to  see  the  closing  of  his  quaint  wooing. 

"Oh  Alice!  Alice!  Come  here,  Mart  Hartley 
has  just  arrived,  and  says  old  Miser  Norton's 
house  was  burned,  and  poor  old  Norton  was  in  the 
house.  Hartley  says  it's  clear  Norton  was  mur 
dered  for  his  money  as  everybody  knows  he  had 
thousands  and  thousand  of  dollars.  Why  Alice," 
continued  Nellie,  "he  cleared  up  over  forty  thous 
and  dollars  in  dust  from  that  pocket  hole  at  the 
big  stump." 

"Oh  My,"  replied  Alice,  "such  things  make 
me  shudder,  it  will  spoil  the  bee  and  dance." 

"It  won't  spoil  my  supper,"  replied  Hartley, 
a  new  comer  in  the  community,  and  a  fellow  who 
had  turned  several  scaly  tricks  at  Newport  and 
the  Siletz. 

As  Alice,  had  predicted,  the  unusual  catas 
trophe  of  the  burning  of  the  Miser,  and  his  house, 
had  thrown  a  gloom  over  the  party,  and  little 
dancing  and  less  spelling  took  place  that  night. 

It  was  well  known  that  Norton  had  his  treas- 


68  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

ure  buried  on  the  place,  and  most  people  believed 
it  to  be  in  his  strongly  built  log  house.  All  the 
men  folk  had  left  for  the  scene  of  the  fire,  and 
for  hours  the  dry  logs  were  a  heated  mass  of  coals 
and  flame. 

Nothing  was  saved,  but  the  stables  and  out 
buildings,  and  it  was  several  days  before  they 
discovered  particles  of  human  bone  and  skull — 
positive  proof  that  Norton  had  been  a  victim  of 
the  fire. 

The  sheriff  from  Corvallis,  had  been  advised 
of  the  death  and  lost  treasure,  and  after  several 
days  of  investigation,  placed  young  Hartley  under 
arrest  for  the  crime,  and  took  him  back  to  Cor 
vallis  to  stand  trial  for  the  murder  and  robbery 
of  old  man  Norton.  Dilligent  search  could  find 
no  relatives  of  the  dead  man,  and  later  it  was 
learned  he  had  come  from  Australia,  where  he 
had  left  a  reputation  that  almost  made  him  de 
serve  his  awful  fate. 

Little  Lottie,  the  pride  of  the  Williams  fam 
ily,  was  now  nearly  three  years  old.  Her  childish 
beauty  was  the  talk,  and  marvel  of  the  coast  folk. 
She  was  much  further  advanced  in  learning 
than  children  of  today,  who  are  not  started  to 
school  until  they  are  five  or  six  years  old.  Little 
Lottie  could  count,  and  repeat  her  A.  B.  C's.  She 
could  sing  little  folk  ballads,  but  her  greatest 
pleasure  was  following  about  after  the  boy  Hugh, 
who  could  never  forgive  her  for  being  a  girl. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  69 

The  trial  of  Hartley  in  the  spring  term  of 
court,  was  a  great  legal  battle.  He  was  well  sup 
plied  with  money,  a  fact  that  went  against  him, 
although  he  declared  he  had  never  set  eyes  on 
old  man  Norton,  or  his  money,  he  explained  he 
had  won  much  money  at  Astoria,  and  later  this 
was  proven  a  fact.  As  his  general  reputation 
was  bad,  and  as  he  had  few  friends,  it  isn't 
strange  that  a  jury  found  him  guilty  of  murder 
in  the  second  degree.  He  had  long  suffered  from 
trouble,  and  during  the  winter  he  died  with  pneu 
monia.  Thus  ended  the  chapter  of  one  of  Ore- 
gons  early  gamblers  and  sports. 

In  the  course  of  a  year,  the  incident  was  al 
most  forgotten,  save  an  occasional  conjecture  of 
what  had  become  of  Nortons  fortune  as  Hartley's 
dying  declaration  that  he  was  innocent  of  the 
crime  convinced  many  that  such  was  the  case. 

The  boy  Hugh  was  now  a  sturdy  lad  of  thir 
teen,  large  for  his  age,  strong  and  lithe  in  every 
movement.  He  could  out  jump,  out  run,  out  box, 
any  boy  for  miles  around  up  to  sixteen  years  of 
age.  His  eye  was  clear,  and  his  aim  as  deadly  as 
that  of  Daniel  Boone.  Abe  Evans,  had  long  since 
given  up  the  thought  that  he  could  teach  the  boy 
anything  about  hunting  or  trapping,  and  at  the 
turkey  matches,  the  local  sports  talked  freely 


70  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

of  barring  him  from  the  sports,  for  as  Link  Cole 
declared,  "it's  too  dum  one  sided.  That  air  Clarke 
youngster  is  jes  a  bunch  of  hair  springs  and  dead 
centers." 

Little  Lottie  regarded  him  as  her  Monarch 
in  her  childish  worship.  He  had  chided  her  many 
times  for  being  a  girl,  and  Lottie  had  begun  to 
regard  the  matter  much  in  the  same  light  that 
her  hero  did,  altho'  but  six  years  of  age  at  this 
time  she  was  adept  at  fishing  and  a  great  lover  of 
pets,  her  menagerie  consisted  of  a  pair  of  young 
wild  cats,  a  cub  bear,  and  a  fawn.  She  would  have 
had  many  more  had  the  Clarkes  permitted  it,  so 
she  was  content  to  follow  Hugh  about  the  woods 
and  beach,  her  entire  pet  family  following  her 
wherever  she  went.  It  was  a  pretty  and  amusing 
sight  to  meet  this  splendid  boy  and  lovely  flaxen 
haired  girl  followed  by  their  pets,  on  a  mountain 
trail.  Such  was  the  experience  of  Jonas  Alden  a 
government  Indian  agent  who  was  on  a  tour  of 
inspection  of  the  Oregon  Coast  tribes  one  of 
which  was  located  at  the  mouth  of  the  Yachats. 

The  children  knew  little  fear  of  strangers, 
and  as  Jonas  Alden  advanced  with  extended  hand 
and  a  smile,  the  boy  Hugh  took  it  and  with  a 
squeeze  that  made  the  City  man  wince,  bid  him 
"Welcome."  then  added,  "This  is  Lottie,  she  is  a 
girl.  I  didn't  know  it  at  first,  but  when  I  found 
it  out,  it  was  too  late  to  put  her  back." 

"Put  her  back,  why?  How  do  you  mean," 
inquired  Mr.  Alden. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  71 

"Oh  back  in  the  water,  where  I  got  her." 

"Then  she's  not  your  sister?"  inquired  Mr. 
Alden. 

"Of  course  she  aint.  My  sisters  are  great 
big  girls,  about  as  tall  as  I  am,  and  always  scold 
ing  me  about  something.  Alice,  that's  the  one 
of  them  is  married,  She  married  a  fellow  that 
followed  her  from  Salt  Lake  City  to  the  furthest 
point  west  of  Cape  Perpectua.  My  but  they  were 
silly.  Like  to  see  myself  kissing  a  girl.  Paul 
Likens,  that's  the  fellow,  he  kissed  her  before 
we  had  went  four  hundred  miles.  That  's  them 
that  lives  in  that  house  back  yonder.  They've 
got  a  baby.  Ugh !  it's  a  girl.  Wonder  why  there 
couldn't  be  a  boy  drop  around  once  in  a  while." 

"\\fell  but  young  man,"  spoke  up  Jonas 
Alden,  "you  wouldn't  want  this  pretty  little  crea 
ture  with  her  family  of  pets,  to  be  a  boy  would 
you?" 

"I'd  give  the  sights  off  of  my  new  rifle  if 
she  was  a  boy.  Not  but  what  she  can  get  around 
pretty  good  for  one  of  her  size.  But  I  can't  abide 
her  hair.  I  had  a  mop  of  hair  like  that  once  and 
that  was  enough  on  the  hair  question  to  do  me 
a  life  time.  Why!  that  girls  hair  has  lost  me 
hours  and  hours  of  fishing  waiting  for  mother 
and  the  girls  to  comb  it." 

"You  haven't  told  me  your  name,  yet  SOP  " 
inquired  Mr.  Alden. 

"Oh,  my  ,name  is  Hugh  Clarke,  and  she 
pointing  to  the  little  girl,  is  Lottie.  Lottie  Fu- 


72  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

guay,  She  calls  my  pa — Daddy  same  as  the  other 
girls  does,  and  Ma, — why  she  calls  Ma,  Mama  just 
as  though  I  didn't  find  her  and  ought  to  be 
her  mother  and  father  and  all." 

"Find  her!"  exclaimed  the  now  much  inter 
ested  stranger,  "how  did  you  find  her?" 

"She  was  tied  fast  to  a  sailor  man  from  the 
wreck." 

"It  must  be  near  dinner  time,  children," 
spoke  up  Mr.  Alden,  "and  I  am  anxious  to  see  your 
Father.  I  wish  to  arrange  with  him  to  take  over 
the  Indian  Agency  at  this  place." 

"Aint  nothing  but  Siwashes  here,  and  they 
can't  fight  or  shoot.  I  don't  think  Pa  will  want  to 
bother  with  them  at  all.  Once  a  band  of  Indians 
stole  all  his  horses,  and  he  aint  much  in  love  with 
redskins." 

Martin  Clarke  met  the  children  and  stranger 
at  the  door.  The  pets  kept  a  distance,  and  be  it 
noticed  that  a  wild  animal  ever  so  tame,  they  are 
always  shy  of  strangers.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clarke 
offered  the  stranger  a  glad  welcome,  and  soon  he 
was  seated  at  the  table  enjoying  the  fish  and  wild 
game  together  with  the  fruits  and  dainties  pre 
pared  by  Mrs.  Clarke's  skilled  hands. 

"Mr.  Clarke!  you  have  been  recommended 
to  me  as  just  the  proper  person  for  Indian  Agent 
here.  The  salary  is  eight  hundred  dollars  per 
year,  and  the  duties  light.  I  hope  you  will  find  it 
convenient  to  take  over  the  position  as  it  will 
simplify  my  visit  here,  as  I  am  anxious  to  con- 


u 

— 

£ 

w 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  1$ 

tinue  my  trip  to  Florence  to  appoint  an  agent 
there,  where  I  understand  there  are  a  larger  band 
of  Indians  located." 

Clarke  never  quite  did  anything  without  con 
sulting  Lizzie,  and  before  the  meal  was  ended, 
the  thought  of  eight  hundred  dollars  yearly, 
decided  them  and  Martin  Clarke  was  armed  with 
proper  credentials  that  made  him  a  government 
Indian  Agent  with  many  prerogatives. 

While  enjoying  their  after  dinner  pipe,  Jonas 
Alden,  inquired  of  Mr.  Clarke  the  particulars  of 
the  girl  Lottie. 

"Well",  replied  Clarke,  "it  sounds  almost  like 
a  novel  story.  Our  boy  Hugh  was  watching  that 
ships  hull  yonder,  on  the  beach  the  morning  she 
was  wrecked.  The  boys  and  I  and  our  girl  Alice, 
were  up  at  the  big  stump  when  a  sailor  washed 
ashore,  with  a  baby  girl  lashed  to  him.  Our  boy, 
Hugh,  cut  the  child  free  from  the  sailor  believing 
he  was  drowned.  He  carried  the  tiny  thing  to 
the  house  where  Lizzie,  that's  my  wife,  brought 
the  dear  little  thing  back  to  life.  I  later  discover 
ed  the  sailor  and  resuscitated  him,  but  he  only 
lived  long  enough  to  tell  his  story,  and  a  little  of 
the  baby's  history." 

Mr.  Alden  begged  Clarke  to  repeat  the  story 
and  at  the  conclusion,  of  the  narrative,  Mr  Alden, 
exclaimed ; — 

"I  know  that  child's  father,  and  grand  Bar 
ents.  They  live  in  Washington,  D.  C.  Mr.  Fu- 
quay  is  a  French  Diplomat  at  Washington.  The 


74  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

ship  on  which  they  sailed  for  America  was  blown 
far  south  and  wrecked  in  a  midnight  storm.  He 
became  separated  from  his  wife,  and  baby,  and 
the  boat  on  which  he  was  placed,  was  picked  up  by 
a  merchantman,  and  landed  in  New  York  Oiiy. 
It  is  evident  a  whaler  must  have  picked  up  his 
wife  and  baby,  and  after  rounding  the  cape, 
wrecked  then  at  last  on  the  Alutian  Islands." 
"I  believe  it  my  duty,  Mr.  Clarke,  to  take  the 
child  to  her  father.  He  is  wealthy  and  a  highly 
respected  French  official.  You  can  readily  sej 
you  can  not  do  justice  to  the  child  here." 

At  this  juncture  the  boy  Hugh  spoke  up, — 

"She's  a  girl  all  right,  but  she's  mine,  I  cut 
her  loose  from  the  sailor.  As  I  said  before,  she's 
a  girl,  but  I'm  going  to  keep  her." 

"Now  son,"  spoke  up  Mr.  Clarke,  "you  c!-»n't 
understand  the  situation,  Little  Lottie's  father  is 
wealthy,  and  can  give  her  an  elegant  home,  a 
good  education,  and  all  the  things  one  of  her  sta 
tion  requires.  You  would  not  be  so  selfish  as  to 
deprive  her  of  all  this  would  you  Hughie  ?" 

"This  Indian  business  always  did  make 
trouble,"  replied  Hugh,  "  if  it  wasn't  for  them 
flat  head  Siwashes,  Mr.  Alden  wouldn't  be  here. 
She  would  be  all  right  here  when  she  gets  a 
little  bigger,  even  if  she  is  a  girl.  If  mother  arid 
the  girls  want  to  give  her  up,  I  aint  got  nothing 
to  say." 

It  was  with  sinking  hearts  Mrs.  Clarke  und 
the  girls  considered  the  loss  of  Little  Lottie,  but 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  75 

with  feminine  fortitude  ever  remembering  the 
great  advantage  Lottie  was  to  receive,  that  at  last 
they  consented  to  the  loss.  The  remainder  of  the 
day  was  spent  by  the  mother  and  daughters  pre 
paring  dainty  dresses  and  bright  ribbons  for  the 
little  waif,  that  she  might  not  shame  her  father 
on  her  arrival  at  the  City  of  Washington. 

"Lottie!"  Commanded  Hugh,  "come  out  here 
by  the  hen  house,  I  want  to  talk  a  little  good  ad 
vice  to  you.  You  are  going  away  with  that  man 
back  there  in  the  house.  He  says  he  will  send  me 
a  watch  and  a  pistol,  and  a  pair  of  boots: — said 
he  thought  I  deserved  something  for  rescuing  you 
from  the  sea.  I  told  him  if  that  was  what  he 
was  sending  them  for,  to  just  keep  them." 

"Oh  Hugh!"  spoke  up  the  little  girl,  "he  can't 
take  me.  I'm  yours.  Are  you  going  to  give  me 
to  that  great  ugly  man  with  grey  whiskers,  and 
red  nose?" 

"Well  you  see  Lottie,  you  have  got  a  regular 
father  and  he  is  rich.  He  has  got  lots  of  things ; 
pretty  horses,  and  carriages,  with  a  top  on  it,  and 
an  organ,  and  plenty  of  candy." 

At  the  mention  of  candy,  the  child  appeared 
somewhat  consoled  at  the  change,  but  in  a  mo 
ment  she  approached  the  boy,  and  twining  her 
arms  about  his  neck,  begged  him  to  come  along. 

"Who,  me?"  replied  the  boy.  "I  wouldn't 
live  in  that  country  if  they  would  give  me  a  new 
rifle  every  day.  This  spot  suits  me  all  right,  and 
perhaps  I  can  find  another  child  tied  to  something 


76  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

in  the  surf.    If  I  do,  I'll  bet  it  will  be  a  boy." 

"Hugh,  maybe  when  I  grow  bigger  I'll  be  a 
boy." 

"No  danger,  with  that  long  yellow  hair." 

"Let's  cut  it  off,"  pleaded  the  innocent  Lottie. 
"You  wait  here,  and  I  will  slip  into  the  parlor 
room  and  get  the  shears.  Mamma  won't  care  be 
cause  I  am  going  away."  So  little  Lottie  soon  re 
turned  with  the  scissors,  and  seating  herself  on  a 
cedar  block,  Hugh  took  the  shears  and  proceeded 
to  detach  great  twining  curls  from  the  shapely 
head,  until  the  child  was  as  bald  as  a  pirate. 
As  he  concluded  his  task,  he  drew  a  long  breath, 
and  exclaimed: — 

"Now!  I  could  almost  love  you  little  Lottie. 
Always  keep  those  curls  off  and  I  will  come  for 
you  when  you  are  big,  and  we  will  build  us  a 
house  like  Alice  and  her  man  has." 

"Oh,  Hugh!"  sobbed  the  little  girl,  "I  don't 
want  to  leave  you.  I'm  a  boy  now." 

"No  you  aint,"  replied  the  boy.  "You're 
just  a  make  believe,  but  you're  mine  just  the 
same,  and  when  you  get  big  I  am  coming  after 
you." 

"I'll  wait  for  you,  Hughie  dear.  I'll  wait 
for  you,  cause  I'm  yours." 

The  following  morning  found  a  little  brass 
bound  trunk  loaded  with  the  child's  clothes  and 
treasures  strapped  for  the  long  journey  across  the 
western  continent.  Mrs.  Clarke  and  the  girls 
could  not  repress  their  tears,  and  their  loud  sobb- 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  77 

ing  savored  more  of  a  funeral  than  an  ordinary 
parting.  Little  Lottie  hung  at  Hughie's  heels 
until  the  last  moment,  when  the  little  trunk  had 
been  strapped  to  the  back  of  an  Indian  pony,  and 
she  was  about  to  be  lifted  to  the  back  of  another, 
she  approached  Hugh  and  raising  her  ripe  red 
lips,  begged  him  to  kiss  her  good  bye. 

"I  aint  kissing  no  girl  yet,"  spoke  the  boy. 
"Alice  kissed  that  Paul  Likens,  and  now  look  at 
them,  stuck  off  there  alone  by  themselves,  and 
acting  as  though  they  were  the  only  people  on 
earth.  Now  you,  Lottie,  here  is  something  to 
keep  about  your  neck  to  remember  me  by,"  and 
as  the  boy  spoke,  he  produced  from  somewhere 
about  his  clothes,  a  little  golden  chain  with  a 
tiny  cross  attached  to  it.  He  had  found  the  gold 
en  trinket  in  an  Indian  grave,  and  no  doubt  at 
some  time  it  had  belonged  to  some  wealthy  maid 
en,  that  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  Indians 
at  some  early  date. 

At  last  the  adieus  were  made,  and  Alden 
and  the  child  departed  with  the  Indian  pack  team 
in  the  rear.  The  Clarkes  household  was  a  sad 
dened  one  for  days  and  weeks.  Hugh  spent  most 
of  his  time  fishing  for  trout.  One  day  while  digg 
ing  for  angle  worms  in  the  pasture  lot,  on  Norton's 
place,  where  the  house  was  burned,  his  spade 
struck  a  metallic  substance.  The  curious  boy  un 
earthed  the  object  and  found  it  to  be  a  large  cop 
per  kettle.  It  was  too  heavy  for  him  to  lift  and 
after  great  labor,  he  managed  to  remove  the  lid. 


78  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

Judge  the  boy's  surprise  to  find  the  kettle  brim 
full  of  gold  pieces,  and  a  leathern  sack  filled  with 
glittering  stones. 

"I  always  knew  Hartley  never  stole  old  Nor 
ton's  money,"  exclaimed  the  boy,  "and  now,  he  is 
dead,  so  them  jury  fellows,  can't  apologize  to  him. 
By  crackins  that  kettle  is  heavy.  I  just  can't  lift 
it  at  all.  I  guess  I'll  just  take  a  piece  of  that  gold 
money  and  go  down  to  Florence  and  get  a  couple 
boxes  of  ammunition.  No  I  don't  believe  I  will 
I,  guess  I  better  tell  pa  about  it,  maybe  it  won't 
be  right  to  take  any.  I  suppose  some  one  will 
come  along  and  take  it  away  from  me  after  I 
found  it,  like  they  did  little  Lottie."  But  I  will 
get  her  back  some  day.  Guess  I  will  just  cover 
it  up  and  go  and  tell  the  folks.  My!  but  there  is 
a  lot  of  it.  If  Lottie  was  here  now  I  could  buy  her 
all  the  candy  she  could  eat  in  her  lifetime." 

As  the  boy  Hugh  approached  his  home  he 
found  his  father  busy  trying  to  turn  the  grind 
stone,  and  hold  the  ax  on  it  at  the  same  time. 

"Look  here !  young  man,"  the  father  exclaim 
ed  angrily,  "I  am  getting  tired  of  your  fishing  ex 
cursions.  You  must  remember  there  is  wood  to 
be  gotten,  and  chores  to  do.  Eight  hundred  dol 
lars  a  year,  won't  keep  us  all  in  idleness  the  rest 
of  our  lives." 

The  boy  grasped  the  handle  of  the  grind 
stone  in  silence,  and  in  this  manner  turned  it 
steadily  for  the  next  fifteen  minutes  until  his 
father  pronounced  the  ax  sharp. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  79 

"You  better  go  in  and  have  your  dinner, 
Hugh.  It's  a  shame  for  you  to  keep  your  mother 
and  the  girls  waiting  meals  on  you,  while  you 
lay  around  on  the  creek  banks  fishing." 

"But  Pa,  I  found  something  over  in  Norton's 
cow  yard." 

"What,  an  old  jack  knife?"  inquired  the 
father. 

"No  I  found  a  wash  kettle  full  of  gold  money 
and  pretty  stones." 

"You  did!"  exclaimed  the  father,  "what  did 
you  do  with  it?" 

"I  couldn't  lift  it,"  replied  the  son,  "so  I 
just  covered  it  up  and  left  it." 

"Well  go  on  and  eat  your  dinner,  boy.  I 
didn't  mean  to  scold  you  for  going  fishing,  Hugh. 
You  are  the  best  trout  fisherman  on  the  coast. 
Go  on  ond  eat,  boy  while  I  go  over  and  get 
Williams.  I  want  Abe  to  know  all  about  the 
money." 

"Things  are  getting  cold,  Hughie,  dear," 
spoke  up  his  mother  as  the  boy  dried  his  face  on 
the  towel.  "What  kept  you  so  long  son  ?" 

"Why  mother  I  was  just  digging  fish  worms 
over  in  old  Norton's  cow  pasture,  when  I  struck 
something  hard  with  my  shovel,  and  when  I  dug 
around  it,  I  found  it  was  a  great  copper  kettle 
full  of  gold  money." 

"Father  in  Heaven,  Hughie,  you  don't  tell 
me." 

"Yes,  I  do  tell  you,  and  pa  has  just  gone  over 


80  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

to  get  Abe  Williams,  to  help  him  carry  it  home. 
I  suppose  some  man  from  back  east  will  come  and 
take  it  away  from  me,  same  as  they  did  little 
Lottie." 

As  the  lad  finished  his  dinner,  Clarke  and 
Williams,  entered  the  front  door.  Williams  face 
was  flushed  with  excitement,  and  as  he  seated 
himself  in  an  old  cane  bottom  chair,  he  exclaimed : 

"We  can  do  it  now." 

"Do  what,  Williams?" 

"Fix  up  the  ship  and  get  her  back  into  the 
water  and  go  and  take  possession  of  that  sailor's 
island  paradise. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  81 


Chapter  VI 
Lottie  Meets  Her  Father. 

When  Mrs.  Clarke  spied  the  closely  cropped 
head  of  little  Lottie,  the  poor  woman  nearly 
fainted. 

"Why  Lottie  dear/'  exclaimed  the  poor  wom 
an,  "what's  happened  to  your  hair?" 

"Oh,  nothing,  only  we  wanted  to  be  a  boy." 

"We?  dear,  who  are  we?" 

"Oh,  Hughie  and  I.  He  just  can't  bear  my 
long  yellow  hair,  and  we  thought  if  we  kept  it  cut 
off  until  I  get  big,  maybe  I  would  be  a  boy,  when 
Hugh  comes  after  me." 

Mrs.  Clarke  was  one  of  those  reasonable 
women  that  made  the  best  of  everything,  so  she 
said  but  little  to  the  children  at  their  parting, 
although  it  almost  broke  her  heart  to  see  the  little 
lass  shorn  of  her  golden  tresses,  but  as  Alden 
would  not  reach  the  east  for  about  four  months, 
she  figured  the  child's  hair  would  be  a  mass  of 
clinging  flaxen  curls,  ere  she  reached  her  father's 
home. 

The  trip  down  the  coast  was  slow  and  tedi 
ous,  but  the  staunch  little  Lottie,  was  immune  to 
such  hardships,  and  she  proved  a  great  comfort 
to  Mr.  Alden  who  learned  to  worship  the  cheer 
ful  little  maiden,  before  they  had  been  traveling 


82  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

companions  for  a  week.  At  Florence  they  were  de 
layed  for  a  week  by  a  washout,  and  fall  weather 
and  snows  greeted  our  travelers  as  soon  as  they 
reached  the  Rocky  mountains,  in  fact  it  was  the 
first  snow  the  child  had  ever  seen,  and  she  often 
bemoaned  the  fact  that  Hugh  was  not  along  to 
see  the  white  wonder. 

On  the  day  before  Christmas  Mr.  Alden  and 
Lottie  arrived  at  her  father's  home  in  Washing 
ton.  She  was  now  seven  years  of  age,  and  travel 
had  lent  largely  to  her  worldly  knowledge.  She 
had  given  up  all  hope  of  ever  becoming  a  boy. 
Her  father  met  the  beautiful  little  girl  with  open 
arms  and  Washington  society  went  wild  over  the 
pretty  little  girl,  partially  on  account  of  her  fath 
ers  popularity,  but  we  will  not  take  up  the  read 
ers  time  with  city  doings  and  details,  but  instead 
return  to  the  home  of  the  Clarkes  down  by  the 
sighing,  sobbing,  snarling,  surly  sea. 

"How  much  do  you  figure  there  is  in  those 
two  piles  you  have  just  counted,  Williams?"  in 
quired  Clarke. 

"If  I  aint  mistaken  there  is  sixty-one  thous 
and  and  ninety  dollars,"  replied  Williams. 

"Well  I  make  these  two  piles,  seventy-six 
thousand  and  forty  dollars,  that  would  make  one 
hundred  and  thirty-eight  thousand  and  three  hun 
dred  dollars,  continued  Clarke,  "and  the  Lord  only 
knows  what  those  stones  are  worth.  Perhaps 
more  than  the  gold  is." 

"Well  it's  a  sure  thing,"  spoke  up  Williams, 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  83 

"no  one  has  a  better  right  to  it  than  you  have. 
The  boy  found  it,  and  old  Norton  has  no  relatives, 
as  was  declared  by  the  state,  so  no  one  but  the 
state  could  ever  claim  a  share  in  it.  So  I  think 
the  best  way  is  to  go  ahead  and  fix  up  the  ship 
and  float  her.  She  is  as  good  as  the  day  she 
beached." 

"What  does  Hugh  thing  about  the  matter?" 

"Oh  Hugh,"  replied  Clarke,  "is  worrying  his 
head  off  about  little  Lottie.  He  hasn't  heard  a 
word  from  her  yet,  although  she  has  been  gone 
six  months.  Hugh  seems  to  have  changed  his 
mind  considerable  on  the  girl  question,  and  ac 
knowledged  to  his  mother  that  little  girls  of 
Lottie's  type,  were  nearly  as  good  as  boys  for 
most  purposes,  and  says  he  thinks  she  will  be 
all  right  when  she~grows  up  if  she  keeps  her  hair 
cut  off.  Oh  yes,  Williams,  Hugh  is  willing  to 
spend  the  money  in  fitting  up  the  ship  only  he 
says  he  will  have  to  have  the  ship  to  come  back 
with  when  Lottie  grows  up." 

"He  will  forget  all  about  that  Clarke,  long 
before  the  girl  grows  up." 

"I  don't  know  about  that  Williams.  He  isn't 
very  forgetful.  He  has  never  forgotten  that  you 
called  him  a  little  girl,  back  in  Iowa.  Only  a  few 
days  ago  he  spoke  of  it,  and  said  if  he  wasn't  in 
such  need  of  a  captain  for  the  Grace  &  Dell,  he 
would  leave  you  behind.  But  Hugh  just  adores 
your  wife  Nellie." 


84  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

"It's  a  good  thing  he's  a  boy,  if  he  does," 
growled  Williams. 

"Say,  Williams,"  spoke  up  Clarke,  "how  are 
we  going  to  make  things  appear  before  the  neigh 
bors.  How  are  we  going  to  account  for  all  the 
money  it  will  take  to  fix  up  the  ship  and  put  her 
in  the  water?" 

"That's  so,  Clarke,  I  never  thought  of  that. 
Just  let  me  talk  to  Nell  about  the  matter,  you 
know  she  helped  us  out  of  that  Indian  scrape." 

"All  right,  Abe,  See  what  Nell  says.  Is 
she  willing  to  try  the  trip  to  the  lost  islands  ?" 

"Oh  Nell?  She  is  full  of  that  'Whither  thou 
goest  stuff,  same  as  your  wife." 

"The  Lord  has  been  good  to  us,  Abe,  in  the 
woman  line." 

Yes,  Gus,  he  sure  has." 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  85 


Midnight  Storm. 

On  the  night  of  January  18,  a  storm  struck 
the  coast  at  Yachats,  the  fury  of  which  has  never 
been  equaled  in  the  history  of  the  Pacific  coast. 
The  day  had  been  warm,  even  sultry  for  that 
time  of  year,  until  nearly  evening,  when  the  dark 
ening  sky  gave  birth  to  rumbling,  dancing  clouds, 
their  writhing  fringes  were  streaked  with  blood 
and  fire;  painted  in  a  glare  of  crimson,  with  the 
aid  of  the  setting  sun.  The  wind  had  begun  to 
whine  a  dreary  requiem  through  the  channels  in 
the  rocks.  Already  the  crest  of  the  sea  began  to 
undulate  like  the  bosom  of  a  furious  woman. 
Suddenly  a  darkened  pall  fell  over  sea  and  rocks. 
A  mighty  roar  of  the  elements  smote  the  ear  like 
the  crash  of  many  cannon.  A  piercing  streak 
of  tangled  lightning  sawed  a  slanting  gash  in  the 
rocky  headland.  Great  boiling  billows  of  whiten 
ed  spume  flew  high  into  the  sky.  The  smothering 
lather  from  the  angry  surf  formed  in  winrows 
like  drifted  snow.  Great  snarling  writhing  ma 
rine  rollers  smothered  each  other  in  their  mad 
dening  frolic.  The  wind  got  a  finger  hold  under  a 
massive  floating  log,  and  lifted  it  high  and  flung 
it  splintered  on  the  rocks  twenty  feet  above.  The 
surf  reached  the  Grace  and  Dell,  raised  her  bod- 


86  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

ily  from  her  bed  in  the  sand,  and  carried  her  to 
the  mouth  of  the  Alsea.  When  just  at  the  mouth 
of  the  bay,  the  wind  shifted  to  the  westward  and 
blew  her  safely  across  the  bar,  in  fact  she  brought 
up  standing  tight  and  calm  under  the  lee  of  the 
rocky  headline  off  Yaquina  John  Point.  Clarke 
and  Williams  had  followed  the  floating  derelict 
up  the  beach,  and  as  soon  as  she  became  be 
calmed  they  procured  a  fish  boat  and  went  aboard, 
with  the  aid  of  the  winches,  they  dropped  the 
anchors  forward  and  aft  in  the  harbor  sands, 
and  formally  took  possession  of  her  by  right  of 
salvage  according  to  the  bottomry  laws  of  the 
seas. 

"Abe  are  you  a  praying  man?"  spoke  up 
Clarke. 

"Now  look  here,  Clarke,  I'm  willing  to  help 
you  thank  God  for  this  second  gift  from  the 
storm.  I  figure  this  moving  of  the  Grace  and  Dell 
into  this  harbor,  has  saved  us  upwards  of  thirty 
thousand  dollars,  and  I  never  did  lay  the  killing 
of  old  Mollie  onto  God.  They  calls  them  acts  of 
God  I  know,  but  they  are  acts  of  the  devil.  The 
saving  of  little  Lottie,  and  the  salvaging  of  ships 
by  storms,  are  acts  of  God,  and  Martin  Clarke, 
here  on  my  knees,  I  thank  God  for  this  act,  and  I 
thank  God  for  my  dear  wife  and  children,  and  I 
ask  his  blessing  on  our  great  undertaking  to  reach 
that  unknown  mysterious  island,  the  dead  sailor 
told  us  of." 

"Whew!  Abe,  you  can  preach  about  as  flu- 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  87 

ently  as  you  can  cuss,  but  I  know  you  mean  every 
word,  old  boy,  and  it  does  me  good  to  hear  you, 
but  what  plan  has  your  wife  suggested  regard 
ing  an  explanation  of  how  we  got  so  much  money 
to  fix  up  the  ship,  and  store  her?  I  figure  it  will 
take  fifty  thousand  dollars  to  get  everything 
aboard.  You  know  we  will  start  a  new  world  of 
our  own  when  we  reach  there,  and  must  take 
along  a  little  of  everything  we  may  ever  need." 

"Well,  Clarke,  this  is  how  Nellie  says  we 
could  do  the  thing.  You  know  our  oldest  boy 
Frank  was  talking  of  going  to  eastern  Oregon, 
to  work  on  a  cattle  ranch  before  our  good  fortune. 
Now,  says  Nellie,  let  it  appear  that  he  went  to 
Eastern  Oregon,  but  instead  let  him  go  to  Chi 
cago  with  the  money,  he  could  impersonate  a  rich 
man,  that  wants  buy  a  ship  and  fit  it  for  a  long 
sea  voyage.  He  could  write  us  letters  making 
offers  on  the  ship,  also  offers  to  take  us  all  with 
him.  He  could  make  it  appear  in  the  letters  that 
he  would  meet  us  with  the  vessel  at  Astoria.  Do 
you  get  the  drift?" 

"Do  I  get  it?  Why  Gus,  why  couldn't  we 
thought  of  that,  it  is  as  simple  as  rolling  off  a 
log.  When  can  the  boy  start  east?" 

"Oh,  I  reckon  not  before  morning,"  replied 
Williams. 

"Well,  Williams,  you  always  did  do  things 
lively.  Get  him  ready  as  soon  as  possible,  and  I 
will  have  the  money  fixed  so  he  can  carry  it 


88  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

safely.  Why  the  thing  is  as  simple  as  shooting 
snipe." 

There  was  a  great  flurry  and  bustle  going 
on  in  the  Williams  log  mansion  most  of  the 
night,  starching  shirts,  ironing,  getting  the  best 
handkerchiefs,  and  socks  together.  The  black 
broadcloth  suit  that  had  only  been  worn  by  his 
father  at  his  wedding  was  in  perfect  order,  and 
style  too  for  all  that,  so  when  the  young  man's 
mother  was  through  packing  his  trunk  and  suit 
case,  but  for  shoes  and  hat,  Frank  was  as  well 
dressed  as  any  city  dandy.  Although  a  quiet  boy 
by  nature,  he  was  a  deep  thinker  and  capable  of 
caring  for  the  business  at  hand.  It  was  a  great 
event  this  trip  to  far  off  Chicago,  for  be  it  known 
the  boy  had  never  spent  a  night  away  from  home 
in  his  life. 

Clarke  had  deposited  twenty  thousand  dollars 
in  a  bank  at  Salem.  For  this  amount  he  gave  the 
young  man  a  certified  check.  It  was  decided  that 
the  boy  should  carry  twenty  thousand  in  gold 
coin,  almost  a  load  of  itself,  but  to  the  sturdy 
young  frontiersman  it  only  balanced  the  grip  in 
his  other  hand  which  contained  his  clothes  and 
toilet  articles. 

By  eight  o'clock  next  day,  Frank  had  shook 
hands  with  the  Clarkes  and  kissed  his  mother  a 
silent  farewell.  The  weather  was  fine  and  dry, 
and  it  was  with  light  spirits  the  young  man  de 
parted  from  the  home  footstool  to  take  up  his 
abode  in  what  was  even  then  a  great  city.  Little 


WHEN  SEVEN  YEARS  OLD 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  89 

occurred  to  our  young  traveler  on  his  journey  to 
the  windy  city.  It  was  a  time  of  great  travel  be 
tween  California  and  the  east,  so  strange  young 
men  ordinarily  dressed  did  not  attract  much  at 
tention.  On  his  arrival  at  Chicago  he  sought  out 
a  moderate  priced  hotel  and  after  placing  the 
funds  in  a  bank  established  himself  for  the  task 
before  him. 

On  June  llth,  Hugh's  birthday,  a  letter 
came  from  far  off  Washington,  Dj.  C.  to  the 
Clarkes.  While  the  letter  was  wholly  personal, 
I  can't  see  that  it  will  do  any  harm  to  copy  it 
here.  The  letter  was  dated: 

Washington,  May  4,   1865. 

My  dear  Daddy,    Mamma,    Alice,    Hughie 
and  all: 

(then  follows)  "Oh !  Hughie  dear,  how  I  long 
to  see  you.  I  think  of  you  night  and  morn 
ing.  My  own  sure  daddy  is  so  good  to  me. 
We  have  a  big  house,  and  black  servants. 
We  have  a  lovely  carriage  and  team  and  a 
big  piano.  I  don't  like  the  piano  very  much. 
I  have  to  practice  on  it  two  hours  each  day. 
Oh !  how  I  long  to  go  fishing  with  you  in  big 
creek,  or  ten  mile.  They  won't  let  me  do 
hardly  anything  here.  I  can't  go  barefooted, 
and  Hughie  dear,  they  won't  cut  my  hair.  It 
is  longer  than  ever  and  so  curly  and  snarly 
it  takes  most  an  hour  a  day  for  an  old  black 
mammy  to  comb  it  out.  I  have  lovely  dress- 


90  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

es,  but  I  like  the  things  your  mamma  made 
for  me  the  best. 

There  is  no  use,  Hugh  talking  about  me 
being  a  boy  some  time.  Mrs.  Stratton,  (that 
is  papa's  best  friend,)  said  it  could  never  be, 
that  everybody  just  stayed  as  they  pere 
born.  She  said  when  you  got  older  you  would 
be  glad  I  was  a  girl.  Oh,  I  hope  you  will, 
Hugh,  because  it  can't  be  helped.  My  papa 
will  go  to  Paris  in  August,  and  I  am  to  go 
along.  So  if  you  hurry  and  write  to  me  it 
will  reach  me  before  we  leave  here.  I  am 
almost  nine  years  old  now,  and  such  a  big 
girl,  with  long  legs,  and  snarly  hair.  The 
little  boys  here  are  real  nice,  but  one  tried  to 
kiss  me  at  a  party,  and  I  told  him  what  you 
said  about  your  sister  Alice,  and  her  hus- 
bana,  and  he  turned  up  his  nose,  and  said  you 
must  be  a  simp.  I  just  flew  at  him  for  a 
minute  and  told  him  I  wouldn't  give  your  lit 
tle  finger  for  a  coach  load  of  Mamma's  Wil 
lies  like  him.  Then  I  went  and  hunted  up  a 
girl  friend,  and  didn't  talk  to  boys  any  more 
that  evening. 

I  am  in  the  sixth  grade  at  school,  and  the 
teacher  praises  me  everyday.  She  says 
your  mother  must  have  been  a  wonderful 
lady  to  have  taught  me  so  much  before  I 
was  six  years  old.  Well  Hugh  dear,  I  will  be 
waiting  anxiously  for  a  letter  from  you,  when 
we  get  to  France,  I  don't  know  where  we  will 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  91 

live,  so  write  to  me  when  you  get  this.  With 
love  to  Daddy,  Mamma,  and  everybody,  and 
you. 

From  your  loving, 

Charlotte  Fuquay, 
1336  Capital  Ave., 

Washington,  D.  C. 

Hugh  listened  with  bated  breath  during  the 
reading  of  the  letter,  and  when  his  mother  con 
cluded  it  ,  he  said: 

"Called  me  a  simp,  did  he?    I  will  take  the 
matter  up  with  him  when  I  visit  Washington." 
"When  you  visit  Washington?"  spoke  up  his 
mother.    "I  am  afraid  we  are  going  in  an  oppo 
site  direction." 

"Coming  back  is  as  good  as  going,"  replied 
her  son.  "I  told  her  I  was  coming  after  her  when 
she  grew  up,  and  now  she  is  going  to  France,  and 
I  am  going  God  knows  where — still,  I'll  find  her. 
Yes,  I'll  find  her,  and  take  her  fishing  back  to 
the  beautiful  Yachats." 

"It  will  do  no  harm  for  you  to  think  so, 
Hugh." 

"Of  course  it  won't,"  replied  her  son,  "for  I 
am  going  to  do  it." 

Hugh  sat  himself  down  after  supper,  beside 
the  kitchen  table  to  answer  the  letter  from  Lottie. 
He  could  not  bring  himself  to  use  any  endearing 
terms  in  the  letter,  as  he  believed  such  things  be 
longed  to  girls  only.  His  letter  ran  as  follows: 


92  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

Heceta   Head,   Oregon, 

August  16,   1865 
Miss  Lottie  Fuquay, 
Most  esteemed  friend: 

"Your  letter  to  our  folks  to  hand.  Ma 
and  Pa  are  glad  to  hear  from  you,  but  I  guess 
you  had  to  learn  to  write  after  you  got  there, 
as  it  was  so  long  before  we  got  a  letter. 

Alice  has  got  a  girl.  She  calls  her  Lot 
tie.  Nothing  but  girls  here.  There  was  a 
family  from  Portland  moved  onto  the  Davis 
place.  They  have  six  girls.  Williams'  muley 
cow  had  twin  calves.  They  were  both  heif 
ers.  Fanny  had  six  little  pups.  We  drowned 
all  but  two.  You  know  why.  There  is  a 
teacher  coming  to  teach  school  here  this  win 
ter.  Its  name  is  Ida  Sprague.  Of  what  sex 
would  you  pronounce  it?  From  the  name, 
does  it  sound  as  though  I  would  have  any 
fun  hunting  and  fishing  with  it  ?  But  I  don't 
blame  you,  Lottie,  for  being  a  girl.  Some 
times  I  am  glad  of  it,  for  when  I  come  for 
you,  I  may  need  you  to  do  the  cooking. 

If  you  see  that  fellow  that  called  me  a 
simp,  tell  him  for  me,  that  I  will  call  on  him 
personally  some  day,  and  hope  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  bruising  his  face. 

Well  Lottie,  Ma  and  the  girls  are  writ 
ing  a  lot  of  news  so  I  will  close,  as  ever  yours, 
Respectfully, 

Hugh  Clarke 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  93 

P.  S.  I  told  you  on  the  top  of  this  letter  where 
it  was  from. 

Frank  Williams  spent  a  day  or  two  looking 
over  the  city.  His  greatest  pleasure  was  at  the 
theaters,  and  minstrel  shows.  His  first  letter  to 
his  parents  ran  as  follows: 

Chicago,   111.,   10-13-65 
Mr.  G.  M.  Williams. 
Heceta  Head,  Oregon. 
Dear  Sir: 

I  am  writing  you  in  reference  to  a  mat 
ter  that  may  be  of  mutual  interest.  For 
years  I  have  contemplated  an  extended  voy 
age  on  the  waters  of  your  great  Pacific 
Ocean,  having  acquired  a  comfortable  for 
tune,  it  is  my  wish  to  purchase  a  sailing  ves 
sel  for  that  purpose  and  select  my  own  crew, 
from  the  captain  down. 

I  shall  expect  to  pay  a  fair  price  both  for 
boat  and  crew,  and  desire  to  take  along  pro 
visions  and  other  necessities  for  an  extend 
ed  cruise.  I  might  add  that  I  am  interested 
financially  in  a  tropical  island  of  the  Pacific 
and  desire  to  take  machinery  and  other  sup 
plies  for  use  on  the  island.  A  gentleman 
from  Astoria,  Oregon,  advises  me  that  you 
have  a  ship  that  will  fill  all  of  my  require 
ments  also  says  that  you  are  a  skilled  naviga 
tor.  Do  not  let  money  matters  stand  in  the 
way  of  joining  me,  in  this  project,  as  my 
heart  is  set  on  the  adventure,  and  all  concern- 


94  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

ed  will  be  well  paid  for  their  interest,  and 
time  taken.  I  will  write  you  more  fully  of  my 
plans  should  I  get  a  favorable  reply  to  this 
offer. 

Trusting  this  will  meet  with  your  favor, 
I  am  respectfully  yours  for  better  ac 
quaintance  and  friendship, 

Jonas  Moore, 
3692  Park  St., 

Chicago.  111. 

It  is  needless  to  say  the  Clarke  and  Williams 
families  were  anxiously  awaiting  this  letter,  and 
Williams  on  his  return  from  the  Post  Office  stop 
ped  at  several  places  and  showed  the  letter  as  it 
had  long  been  a  custom  of  the  two  families  to 
.open  each  others  mail,  as  anything  coming  by 
post  was  of  mutual  interest  as  the  two  families 
were  of  closer  relationship  than  most  blood  rela 
tives. 

A  letter  was  dispatched  the  next  day  to  Jonas 
Moore,  Chicago,  of  course  the  address  on  the  out 
side  looked  big  to  the  settlers,  but  the  contents 
was  made  up  mostly  of  a  mother's  love  and  a 
father's  advice. 

Young  Williams  lost  no  time  in  expressing  a 
check  for  twenty-five  thousand  dollars.  That  had 
to  be  taken  overland  to  Astoria  for  the  money 
and  Clarke  had  to  wait  two  days  for  the  money  to 
arrive  from  Portland,  as  so  large  an  amount  was 
not  on  hand  in  the  town  at  the  mouth  of  the  Col 
umbia.  This  big  remittance  put  the  Clarke  and 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  95 

Williams  families  on  a  safe  financial  footing. 
Clarke  began  making  a  systematic  list  of  the 
many  things  needed  on  the  voyage.  They  must 
take  along  horses,  cattle,  chickens,  and  pigs.  The 
sailor  hadn't  told  them  of  any  domestic  animals 
found  on  the  island.  There  must  be  plenty  of 
cloth,  and  wearing  apparel.  There  must  be  plen 
ty  of  medicines,  and  a  thousand  details,  we  will 
not  enumerate  here.  During  all  this  time,  Will 
iams  and  the  boys  were  aboard  the  Grace  and 
Dell  in  the  Alsea  Harbor,  fitting  her  up  for  the 
long  voyage,  building  berths  and  state  rooms, 
for  the  women  and  children.  Cleaning  the  water 
casks,  renovating  the  biscuit  and  bread  tanks, 
and  at  home  fattening  beef  and  pork  for  the  voy 
age.  Everything  was  bustle  and  excitement. 

An  Indian  wedding  was  to  take  place  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Yachats  Sunday,  before  Christmas. 
Clarke  as  Agent  and  Magistrate  was  to  perform 
the  ceremony.  Indians  from  the  interior  and 
from  both  directions  up  and  down  the  coast  were 
to  be  present.  A  great  feast  was  being  prepared. 
Tons  of  luscious  mussels  were  being  brought 
from  the  rocks.  A  half  dozen  carcasses  of  fat 
elk  were  hanging  in  the  sweetening  smoke  of  an 
alder  fire.  Gay  Siwash  maidens  were  bustling 
around  their  tepees  spreading  furs  and  arranging 
for  a  big  dance.  An  Indian  carrier  had  been  dis 
patched  to  Coos  Bay  for  fire  chuck.  Clarke  had 
forbidden  this,  but  the  money  had  been  raised  all 
unknown  to  him,  and  unscrupulous  white  men 


96  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

would  sell  the  poison  to  any  one  that  had  the 
price.  The  day  drew  near,  only  three  days  more, 
and  the  great  event  would  be  at  hand. 

"Chaco  six  nika  tikka  wawa  copa  nika,"  the 
speaker  was  a  tall  broad  shouldered  young  In 
dian  from  Grande  Ronde  Reservation. 

"Kopet  wa  wa,"  replied  a  young  Indian  girl 
who  had  just  been  addressed  by  the  strange 
brave.  "Cli  Mike  clatawa,"  continued  the  girl. 

"Nike  stop  here,  Nika  come  Grande  Ronde  to 
big  feast." 

"Who  sent  for  you?"  the  girl  inquired  in 
fairly  (good  English. 

"Wake  send,  Nicka  just  come." 

At  this,  the  father  of  the  girl  rode  up  to  the 
tepee  on  one  of  those  famous  staunch  Siwash 
ponies,  that  are  now  practically  extinct.  The 
girl's  father  met  the  strange  young  Indian  much 
more  friendly  than  did  the  maiden,  and  it  was 
evident  that  the  young  brave  had  something  im 
portant  on  his  mind,  as  he  lost  no  time  getting 
Scar  Face  John  off  to  one  side  and  proceeded 
to  lay  the  following  plan  before  him.  His  pro 
ject  was  to  capture  the  ship  Grace  and  Dell  for  a 
cruise  in  Alaskan  waters.  Already  an  Indian 
crew  had  been  chosen  and  numbers  of  young 
braves  were  wild  over  the  prospect  of  a  whaling 
voyage.  The  young  red  devils  would  not  scruple 
to  kill  if  necessary  to  gain  their  end,  and  the 
young  brave  informed  Scar  Face  John  that 
twelve  young  Indians  were  camped  near  the 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  97 

mouth  of  the  Alsea,  armed  to  the  teeth  awaiting 
his  return,  and  ready  to  attack  and  capture  the 
ship.  Scar  Face  John  had  long  been  known  as 
an  unscrupulous  rascal,  and  he  fell  in  with  the 
young  pirate  at  once. 

It  was  agreed  that  Scar  Face  should  enlist 
two  or  three  young  braves  from  the  Yachats  Res 
ervation,  and  the  matter  was  settled  to  take  place 
on  the  night  of  the  feast  and  dance. 

Had  Scar  Face  or  his  young  companion  been 
a  little  more  careful,  things  might  have  turned 
out  more  to  their  liking..  As  it  was,  Nannie  Scar 
Face,  was  concealed  behind  a  clump  of  salal  brush, 
within  ten  paces  of  where  the  conference  took 
place,  and  overheard  every  detail  of  the  nefarious 
plot. 

This  beautiful,  young  Indian  maiden  had  long 
cherished  an  ardent  affection  for  Frank  Clarke. 
However  that  young  man  never  dreamed  of  such 
a  thing. 

With  an  Indian's  patience  and  caution  she 
said  nothing  of  what  she  had  overheard  until  the 
evening  of  the  great  pow  wow. 

The  feast  had  been  laid  and  a  feast  that 
would  have  tempted  most  white  men.  There 
were  great  saddles  of  elk  and  deer,  barbecued  as 
only  an  Indian  can  barbecue  meat.  There  was 
fried  salmon,  Rock  oysters,  sea  mussels,  and  wild 
fruits  of  ten  varieties. 

Clarke  had  just  finished  an  eloquent  address 
to  his  people,  telling  them  of  his  proposed  voyage, 


98  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

and  thanking  them  for  the  splendid  manner  in 
which  they  had  conducted  themselves,  promising 
them  many  presents  on  his  departure. 

The  hour  was  half  past  ten,  at  night,  the 
time  for  the  attack  on  the  ship  was  set  for  twelve. 
There  was  only  Williams  and  his  two  boys,  aboard 
the  Grace  and  Dell  at  the  time.  As  Clarke  step 
ped  from  the  platform,  where  he  had  been  speak 
ing,  the  Indian  girl  beckoned  him  to  her. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  99 


Chapter  VIII 
The  Attack  on  the  Grace  and    Dell. 

As  Clarke  approached  the  girl  he  could  see 
that  she  was  greatly  agitated. 

"Come  with  me,"  she  whispered,  "I  have 
something  I  must  tell  you,  altho  when  my  father 
finds  out  I  have  done  so  he  will  kill  me." 

"Sit  down  on  this  rock,  my  poor  girl,  and  tell 
me  what  troubles  you.  I  will  not  let  Scar  Face 
your  father,  harm  you." 

"It  isn't  myself  he  is  planning  to  harm,  my 
Dear  White  Father,"  replied  the  girl,  "it  is  the 
ship.  They  are  planning  to  take  the  ship  tonight 
at  twelve  o'clock." 

"Take  the  ship!"  exclaimed  Clarke,  "Who? 
how  ?  can  your  father  take  the  ship  with  Williams 
and  his  boys  aboard  and  armed?" 

"But,"  replied  the  girl,  "there  are  twelve  In 
dians  from  Grande  Ronde ;  and  three  from  here  in 
the  plot.  They  must  all  be  there  now." 

"Merciful  Heavens!  Girl,  why  didn't  you  tell 
me  sooner.  It  is  but  an  hour  and  a  half  until 
twelve  o'clock,  and  it  is  a  long  ten  miles  to  where 
the  ship  lies." 

"It  was  fear  of  my  father  that  prevented  me 
telling  you  sooner,"  replied  the  girl. 

"Well,"  spoke  up  Clarke,  "you  go  to  my  wife 


100  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

and  stay  with  her  until  I  return.  Good  God!, 
there  is  a  southwest  gale  coming  up,  but  luckily 
it  will  be  at  our  backs."  As  he  spoke,  Clarke's 
son  Charley,  approached  him. 

"Boy !"  almost  screamed  the  father,  "Get  six 
of  your  bravest  friends  out  from  that  dance  at 
once.  I  am  told  that  a  band  of  Siwash  Indians  are 
planning  to  capture  our  ship  at  twelve  tonight. 
It  is  half  past  ten  now.  How  can  we  reach  there 
in  time." 

"Thank  God,  my  labors  have  not  been  in 
vain,"  exclaimed  the  lad.  "For  the  past  six 
months  I  have  been  working  on  a  sailing  craft 
that  sails  on  land;  you  know  the  beach  shingle 
from  here  to  Alsea  is  as  hard  and  smooth  as  mar 
ble,  only  last  night,  while  you  were  all  sleeping 
I  took  out  the  sail  wagon,  and  with  the  light 
winds,  made  the  trip  in  one-half  hour.  I  figure 
that  with  this  southerly  half  gale,  I  can  land  you 
there  in  fifteen  minutes." 

"How  many  will  your  Wonderful  wagon  car 
ry,  my  lad?"  inquired  Clarke. 

"Oh  I  guess  in  a  pinch  it  would  carry  ten 
persons." 

"Then  get  it  out  at  once  son,  while  I  go  and 
select  a  half  dozen  white  men,  and  secure  the 
guns !" 

The  sail  wagon  was  so  simple  it  is  hardly 
worthy  of  description.  The  wheels  were  sawed 
from  a  perfectly  round  pepper  wood  log  that  had 
washed  in  from  the  Gold  beach  country ;  the  rims 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  101 

were  about  four  inches  wide,  and  the  wood  was 
as  hard  and  tough  as  iron  wood.  The  wagon  had 
five  wheels  instead  of  four,  as  the  horse  drawn 
wagon  has.  The  fifth  wheel  being  considerably 
wider,  and  adjusted  about  six  feet  ahead  of  the 
front  wheels.  A  lever  reaching  back  to  the  axle 
of  the  front  wheels  where  the  steersman  was 
seated  made  up  the  steering  equipment.  The 
sails  were  set  well  aft,  and  were  hung  wing  and 
wing  with  a  flying  jib,  swung  from  the  main  mast 
to  the  front  axle,  that  gave  the  wagon  an  enor 
mous  swell  of  canvas  that  made  land  cruising  in 
a  gale  as  dangerous  as  it  was  at  sea. 

As  Charley  Clarke  pushed  his  treasured  land 
ship  from  its  hiding  place  in  an  old  deserted  shed, 
the  father  came  up  on  a  run  with  a  half  dozen 
stalwart  settlers,  each  one  armed  with  a  rifle  and 
hunting  knife. 

"Climb  aboard,"  yelled  Charley  to  the  men, 
"I  have  her  made  fast  to  that  alder  there,  we  will 
set  her  sailing  gear  after  all  are  aboard,  when  we 
will  cut  the  belaying  rope.  I  warn  you  to  hang 
on  for  your  lives;  as  I  expect  to  show  you  some 
speed  in  this  gale." 

As  the  starboard  sail  was  raised  the  wagon 
began  tugging  at  the  rope  like  a  frantic  horse, 
and  while  setting  the  port  sail  the  craft  broke 
her  moorings  and  darted  up  the  beach  with  the 
speed  of  lightning.  There  was  no  use  for  the  jib, 
so  it  was  not  raised.  No  reefs  had  been  provided 


102  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

for  in  the  sails,  so  they  were  compelled  to  carry 
full  canvas. 

The  machine,  for  such  you  might  call  it,  flew 
before  the  wind  at  terrific  speed,  and  while  pass 
ing  through  small  creeks  that  flow  through  the 
beach  in  several  places  between  Yachats  and  Al- 
sea,  the  wheels  threw  water  high  into  the  air, 
nearly  choking  the  wild  riders.  The  noise  and 
rattle  of  the  swift  running  craft  made  it  imposs 
ible  to  hear  each  other,  so  after  a  few  attempts 
at  conversation  the  men  gave  their  entire  time 
to  holding  onto  the  rather  rough  riding  machine. 
Just  imagine  traveling  at  the  rate  of  sixty  miles 
an  hour,  fifty  years  ago. 

The  machine  held  together  bravely  and  a  few 
minutes  brought  them  in  sight  of  the  Alsea  bar. 
Charley  Clarke,  the  inventor  of  the  machine,  had 
not  given  thought  to  the  matter  of  stopping  the 
great  sail  wagon,  and  as  he  rounded  the  point  at 
Yaquina  John  head,  he  found  it  would  be  neces 
sary  to  run  into  the  high  timbered  bank  at  Ready 
Point,  or  plunge  the  wagon  into  the  swift  running 
bay.  Out  from  the  darkness  lurid  flashes  of  light 
made  from  gun  fire  on  and  about  the  ship,  met 
their  eye.  There  was  no  time  to  decide,  and  brave 
Charley  Clarke  steered  his  heavy  wooden  sail 
wagon  into  the  swift  running  bay.  The  momen 
tum  of  the  craft  carried  it  with  a  bang  up  against 
the  shore  side  of  the  Grace  and  Dell. 

The  hoarse  howls  of  half  drunken  Indians 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  103 

greeted  their  ears.  Williams  and  his  boys  were 
struggling  with  a  half  dozen  frenzied  redskins 
on  deck.  The  remainder  of  the  thieving  pack 
were  in  a  large  canoe  at  the  ships  stern. 

As  the  sail  wagon  struck  the  ship,  the  In 
dians  in  the  boat  yelled  in  terror  in  their  super 
stitious  fear,  believing  it  an  instrument  from  the 
evil  spirit.  They  hastily  paddled  for  the  north 
shore  a  mile  distant. 

The  red  devils  aboard  the  ship  had  heard  and 
felt  the  impact  of  the  machine  as  she  struck,  and 
also  hearing  the  frantic  yells  of  their  terror 
stricken  comrades,  jumped  overboard  in  the  swift 
running  tide,  leaving  two  of  their  number  slowly 
bleeding  to  death  in  the  ship's  scuppers. 

Williams  had  received  a  bullet  wound  in  his 
shoulder,  and  barring  a  bruised  head  and  a  knife 
scratch,  the  boys  were  uninjured. 

"God  be  praised  Clarke !"  sang  out  Williams, 
as  he  spied  his  old  friend,  "did  the  good  Lord  give 
you  wings?  or  have  you  saddled  the  storm?  It 
seems  since  the  death  of  old  Mollie  every  storm 
brings  us  some  great  gift." 

"The  storm  would  not  have  aided  us  much 
had  it  not  been  for  my  boy  Charley,  who  in  se 
cret  built  a  sail  wagon,  that  has,  with  God's  help, 
saved  your  life  and  the  ship." 

The  sailing  machine  being  made  wholly  of 
wood  floated  easily,  but  in  their  hurry  to  get 


104  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

aboard  the  Grace  and  Dell  they  had  omitted  to 
make  the  wagon  fast,  so  she  went  to  sea,  out  over 
the  bar  with  the  swift  running  tide. 

Clarke  secured  a  fleet  footed  Indian  pony, 
left  by  the  fleeing  Indians,  and  hastened  back  to 
Yachats.  When  it  is  known  that  an  Indian  feast, 
lasts  seven  days,  you  can  easily  understand  that 
the  pow  wow  was  just  getting  under  good  head 
way  when  he  returned  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing.  The  Bride  and  Groom  were  busy  feasting 
and  dancing,  and  none  knew  of  the  proposed  raid 
and  murder  on  board  the  Grace  and  Dell  save  the 
Clarke  and  Williams  women  folk,  and  the  Indian 
girl  who  had  at  the  sacrifice  of  her  father,  who 
had  been  killed  on  the  ship,  been  such  a  true 
friend  to  the  Clarke  people. 

An  Indian  marriage  ceremony  when  per 
formed  by  a  minister,  or  a  white  officer  differs 
but  little  from  a  white  wedding.  At  the  time 
there  were  signs  and  tokens  given  the  young 
people  by  the  old  Klutchmen  of  the  tribe,  but 
these  mystic  rites  were  not  divulged  to  the  white 
guests.  Considerable  quarreling  as  a  result  of 
the  fire  water  took  place;  but  none  were  serious 
ly  injured. 

The  Clarke  and  Williams  families  were  work 
ing  day  and  night  fitting  up  the  ship  and  much 
of  the  stores  were  already  aboard. 

About  a  week  later  a  letter  came  from  Jonas 
Moore,  Capitalist,  saying  he  would  reach  Astoria 
in  about  three  weeks.  Frank  Williams  in  writing 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  105 

this  letter,  had  informed  the  home  people  that  he 
was  shipping  by  rail  and  water,  every  article 
named  in  the  Clarke  inventory,  and  had  added 
many  more  as  his  opportunity  for  seeing  useful 
things  was  much  better  than  at  home. 

Several  Indians  had  been  cutting  firewood 
for  the  ship,  as  none  knew  how  extended  the  voy 
age  would  be.  Williams  had  secured  new  charts 
and  maps,  that  gave  seemingly  every  detail  of 
southern  and  western  waters.  Clarke  had  an 
nounced  that  the  voyagers  would  leave  on  the  ship 
for  Astoria,  on  the  following  Monday. 

Abe  Evans,  wife  and  family  were  as  anxious 
for  the  voyage  as  any  members  of  the  party. 

Two  Indian  boys  and  three  Indian  girls,  ser 
vants  of  the  Clarkes,  were  to  go  along.  This  made 
a  party  of  twenty-two  souls. 

Hugh  Clarke  worked  silently  but  constantly, 
and  one  evening  when  he  thought  he  was  alone, 
his  mother  caught  him  with  a  great  tear  cours 
ing  down  his  cheek. 

"Why  Hughie!"  exclaimed  his  mother,  "are 
you  sick  or  in  pain  son?" 

"No,"  replied  her  son,  "I've  been  grating 
horseradish." 

His  mother  said  no  more,  although  she  knew 
there  was  not  a  horseradish  plant  in  one  hundred 
miles.  Way  down  in  that  boy's  heart  there  was  a 
constant  longing  to  see  little  Lottie. 

Sunday  morning,  Clarke  called  his  people  to 
gether  and  bid  them  a  feeling  farewell.  To  Scar 


106  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

Face  John's  daughter  he  made  ample  provisions 
for  her  future  at  least  until  she  should  marry. 
To  every  other  individual  he  gave  a  handsome 
present,  consisting  of  rifles,  boats,  blankets,  pro 
visions,  as  the  individual  case  required.  A  great 
cavalcade  of  Indians  followed  the  party  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Alsea  bay,  where  the  Grace  and  Dell 
was  riding  at  anchor.  At  ten  o'clock  sharp,  anch 
ors  were  weighed,  sails  spread,  and  the  Grace  and 
Dell  moved  majestically  through  the  narrows, 
out  over  the  harbor  bar,  and  headed  northward, 
under  a  full  spread  of  canvas,  with  a  stiff  east 
erly  sailing  breeze. 

It  was  a  wonderful  epoch  in  the  lives  of  all. 
The  women  were  already  busying  themselves  in 
the  galley  and  main  cabin.  The  men  and  boys 
were  stowing  rigging  and  working  cargo  under 
decks.  It  was  a  clear  cloudless  day  and  many  of 
the  party  were  gazing  for  their  last  time  on  Ya- 
quina  John  Point. 

The  weather  was  ideal  during  the  trip  from 
Alsea  Bay  to  the  Columbia  River  Bar,  and  not  a 
soul  on  board  missed  a  meal  during  the  trip 
which  consumed  two  days. 

On  arriving  at  the  lightship  off  the  Colum 
bia  Bar,  a  stiff  tide  was  running  out  and  an  off 
shore  breeze  held  the  ship  outside  for  another 
night,  but  bright  and  early  Wednesday  morning 
a  sailing  breeze  came  in  from  the  Southwest,  and 
Williams  hung  every  rag  on  her  that  her  sticks 
would  bear,  and  crossed  the  bar  with  the 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  107 

speed  of  a  steamer.  The  wind  held  to  a  fair  quar 
ter  until  she  reached  the  docks  at  Astoria  and 
by  noon  of  that  day  mess  was  served  in  sight  of 
what  to  some  of  the  voyagers  was  a  wonderful 
city. 

Young  Williams  and  his  freight  had  not  ar 
rived  yet,  so  it  gave  Clarke  plenty  of  time  to  scour 
the  town  further  for  articles  to  be  used  in  coloriz 
ing  an  uninhabited  island. 

It  was  ten  days  before  the  last  consignment 
of  freight  from  Chicago  arrived,  and  during  that 
time  the  women  folks  had  been  ashore  many 
times,  and  purchased  lavishly  of  the  daintv  dress 
es  and  wearing  apparel  that  hung  in  the  shops  of 
the  town.  Clarke  had  urged  this  for,  said  he, 
where  we  are  going,  a  thousand  gold  dollars  will 
not  buy  a  paper  of  pins,  so  spend  all  you  like  for 
it  will  be  of  no  use  to  us  when  we  leave  here. 

The  Indians  had  gone  in  pretty  strong  for 
brass  watches  and  other  cheap  jewelry,  and  the 
outfitting  of  the  ship  is  well  remembered  by  the 
old  timers  of  Astoria  as  a  snap  seldom  met  with. 

It  was  June  16,  1872  that  the  moorings  were 
slipped  from  the  docks  and  the  Grace  and  Dell 
headed  for  the  open  sea.  I  doubt  if  ever  a  party 
of  people  started  for  an  ocean  voyage  without 
knowing  where  they  were  going  or  even  the  lo 
cation  of  where  they  wished  to  go  but  our  voy 
agers  were  a  care  free,  happy  people  with  a 
staunch  ship  and  provisions  to  last  them  for 
years.  The  boat  carried  two  brass  cannon  for- 


108  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

ward  and  one  ten  pounder  aft,  and  as  she  tacked 
past  the  light  ship  she  fired  a  salute  from  her  en 
tire  battery. 

Soon  the  Grace  and  Dell  was  out  of  sight  of 
land  and  her  mysterious  voyage  was  begun.  Will 
iams  called  Clarke  into  the  pilot  house  and  spoke 
as  follows : 

"Friend  Clarke,  being  the  Captain  and  navi 
gator  of  this  ship,  I  feel  deeply  the  responsibili 
ties  resting  upon  me.  I  want  your  boy,  Hugh,  with 
with  me  constantly.  I  wish  to  give  every  spare 
moment  to  teaching  him  navigation  for  should 
some  mishap  befall  me,  the  ship  would  be  without 
a  navigator,  so  it  is  important  that  he  should  start 
at  once.  A  few  weeks  for  a  boy  like  him  woll 
teach  him  much,  and  I  as  skipper  of  the  ship  ap 
point  your  son,  Hugh  Clarke,  first  mate  of  the 
Grace  and  Dell.  In  the  locker  of  his  stateroom 
adjoining  mine,  he  will  find  a  new  uniform  and  a 
first  mate's  cap  with  gold  lace  and  all  that  goes 
with  it.  See  the  boy  at  once,  Clarke  and  ask  him 
to  forgive  me  for  accusing  him  of  being  a  girl." 

"Oh  Hugh,  is  all  over  that  foolishness,  Will 
iams." 

"I  am  afraid  not  altogether,  Clarke,"  replied 
Williams,  "but  I  hope  by  my  treatment  of  him  to 
make  him  forget  it  before  we  have  sailed  officers 
together  many  leagues  on  the  Grace  and  Dell." 

Few  boys  could  conceal  their  pleasure  and 
satisfaction  at  the  sight  of  a  beautiful  uniform 
and  knowledge  that  they  were  high  in  authority. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  109 

Hugh  grasped  Captain  Williams'  hand  firmly  and 
was  man  enough!  to  acknowledge  that  there  re 
mained  no  animosity  on  his  part  toward  the  Cap 
tain.  He  sat  sturdily  to  work  on  the  books  and 
instruments  and  Williams  was  constantly  at  his 
side,  lending  aid  and  counsel. 

At  this  time  of  year  in  the  north,  central  Pa 
cific  hard  northwesters  are  not  uncommon  but  for 
the  first  two  weeks  our  voyagers  met  nothing  but 
a  fair  sailing  breeze.  The  ship  was  headed  for 
the  southwest,  and  when  about  eight  hundred 
miles  out  ran  into  a  calm  that  lasted  sixteen  days. 

There  is  nothing  like  a  long  calm  on  a  sail 
ing  vessed  to  get  on  the  nerves  of  either  crew  or 
passengers  but  our  good  women  folks  were  full  of 
good  cheer  and  many  games  and  entertainments 
were  resorted  to  to  break  the  monotony.  Mrs. 
Clarke  was  keeping  a  regular  school  and  all  but 
the  grown  men  attended  this,  as  punctual  as 
though  they  were  ashore  at  an  academy.  Few 
ships  were  met  at  those  early  times  and  up  to  this 
date  none  had  been  spoken. 

The  morning  of  June  28,  came  in  with  a 
bluster  from  the  northwest,  and  before  eight  bells 
the  ship  was  running  under  close  reefed  sails 
forward  and  aft.  The  barometer  was  going  down 
and  the  skipper  had  ordered  all  hatches  double 
battened  and  rigging  snugged  away. 

By  noon  the  stiffest  gale  Williams  ever  exper 
ienced  was  blowing  out  of  the  northwest.  The 
women  and  children  were  becoming  dreadfully 


110  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

sea  sick  as  were  also  some  of  the  men.  Here  Mrs. 
Evans  was  able  to  show  her  great  value  in  nursing 
and  medicine.  For  three  days,  and  nights  the 
wind  howled  through  the  rigging  and  braces,  and 
the  few  left  who  were  not  prostrated  with  sea 
sickness  worked  every  watch  of  the  clock  for  sev 
enty-two  hours. 

At  last  the  gale  blew  itself  out  and  the  glo 
rious  sun  shone  forth,  but  the  sea  was  still  a  heav 
ing  stretch  of  mountains.  Twenty-four  hours 
more  brought  the  sea  down  to  a  fair  weather  chop 
and  it  wasn't  long  until  all  were  on  decks  again 
as  cheerful  as  ever.  One  of  the  horses  had  been 
killed  by  the  pitch  of  the  raging  sea,  and  his  car 
cass  had  been  hoisted  to  the  main  deck  and  cast 
overboard  amidst  a  school  of  sharks.  The  fran 
tic  play  of  these  beasts  of  the  sea  to  tear  the 
dead  animal  asunder  filled  the  souls  of  our  women 
and  children  with  disgust  and  horror,  and  Mrs. 
Clarke  made  a  lesson  of  it  to  the  younger  ones, 
pointing  out  to  them  what  would  be  their  fate 
should  they  get  too  close  to  the  low  railing  and 
fall  overboard. 

The  party  were  now  in  tropical  waters  and 
the  great  hazy  sun  hung  in  a  misty  oven  of  heat. 
The  days  were  oppressive,  but  the  nights  were 
comparatively  comfortable.  For  nearly  two 
months  now,  our  voyagers  had  not  had  a  sight 
of  land.  "Perhaps,"  said  Clarke,  "we  are  in  the  vi 
cinity  of  our  lost  island,"  but  not  a  sight  of  bird  or 
gull  betokened  their  approach  to  land. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  111 

Our  hero,  Hugh,  had  made  such  rapid  pro 
gress  in  the  art  of  navigation  that  Capt.  Williams 
seldom  took  the  trouble  to  take  the  sun.  At 
twelve  o'clock  noon  on  each  bright  day  you  could 
see  Hugh  standing  on  the  bridge,  sextant  in  hand, 
closely  scanning  the  instrument  for  a  few  min 
utes,  then  retiring  to  his  cabin,  you  would  find  him 
silently  figuring  out  the  position  of  the  ship. 
Sometimes  Captain  Williams  would  get  a  posi 
tion  on  the  after  deck  and  take  a  reckoning  un 
known  to  the  young  mate,  but  the  results  were 
invariably  identical,  so  Capt.  Williams  had  prac 
tically  surrendered  the  navigation  of  the  craft  to 
his  young  mate. 

One  of  the  young  Indians  had  fallen  from 
a  cross  tree  in  the  rigging  during  the  latter  por 
tion  of  the  storm  before  mentioned,  and  had  sus 
tained  a  badly  fractured  leg  below  the  knee.  It 
was  a  compound  fracture  of  the  severest  type, 
both  bones  having  made  serious  gashes  through 
the  flesh.  Nell  Evans  had  reduced  the  fracture 
with  the  skill  of  a  trained  surgeon.  Although  an 
tiseptics  were  used  profusely  in  the  dressings  ow 
ing  to  the  extreme  hot  climate  blood  poisoning 
set  in  and  after  every  effort  had  been  made  to 
save  the  limb  it  was  found  necessary  to  amputate 
it.  Nell  Evans  had  never  seen  a  capital  operation 
in  her  life,  but  as  the  young  Indian's  life  depended 
on  the  attempt  she  brought  forth  the  crude  in 
struments  at  her  command  and  set  to  work.  An 
esthetics  were  unknown  to  her,  but  she  thorough- 


112  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

ly  understood  the  use  of  opiates,  and  after  giving 
her  dusky  patient  all  the  opium  his  system  would 
stand  she  went  to  work  with  knife  and  saw,  sav 
ing  a  good  cushion  for  the  stump,  and  taking  up 
the  arteries  and  veins  as  neatly  as  any  surgeon 
might.  Even  in  that  boiling  climate  the  wound 
healed  by  first  intuition,  and  long  before  they 
sighted  land,  the  Indian  youth  was  walking  about 
decks  on  crutches. 

Sailing  for  an  unknown  harbor  is  a  thing 
few  people  have  ever  experienced  and  to  say  the 
voyage  was  becoming  rather  monotonous  was  put 
ting  it  mild.  Frequent  rains  at  sea  had  helped  to 
replenish  the  fresh  water  supply,  and  Clarke  had 
rigged  a  condenser  from  his  stock  of  hardware, 
whereby  he  could  make  water  fresh  enough  to  sat 
isfy  the  stock  from  the  salty  sea. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  113 


Chapter  IX 
Lost  at  Sea. 

Our  voyagers  ever  patient  murmured  little  at 
what  seemed  now  a  fruitless  effort  to  locate  the 
dead  sailor's  island.  The  softened  chime  of  the 
play  of  waters  at  the  ships  for  foot  rang  low  in  the 
tropical  sea,  like  the  murmuring  of  a  rill.  Canvas 
was  set  for  great  tacks.  Often  Hugh  would  hold 
the  vessel  on  a  westerly  course  for  three  hundred 
miles  without  touching  a  stitch  of  canvas.  Then 
he  would  heel  her  over  in  a  southeasterly  course 
for  a  like  distance.  Many  weeks  had  passed  since 
they  had  sighted  a  ship,  and  it  was  evident  our 
party  was  out  of  the  natural  ships  courses.  Never 
a  complaint  came  from  the  faithful  women. 

One  day  Capt.  Williams  met  Mrs.  Clarke  on 
the  after  deck. 

"Hello  Skipper,"  cheerily  sang  out  Mrs. 
Clarke,  "When  do  you  figure  at  our  present  speed 
we  will  reach  the  island  ?" 

"Don't  joke  me  on  the  subject,  Lizzie,"  re 
plied  the  Captain,  "My  hair  is  turning  grey  fast 
enough.  There  is  no  way  to  know  where  the 
island  is  located.  I  am  worried  most  to  death  and 
you  women  have  been  so  good  and  uncomplain 
ing.  Tell  me,  Mrs.  Clarke,  what  do  the  women 
say  amongst  themselves  about  the  crazy  adven 
ture?" 


114  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

"Why  us  women  are  just  delighted  with  the 
trip.  It  is  just  one  long  vacation  of  pleasure  and 
amusement." 

"Now  "Lizzie,  its  awful  good  of  you  to  put  it 
that  way,  but  I  know  you  must  be  most  frantic  at 
our  failure  to  discover  the  island.  We  may  have 
passed  it  several  times  and  not  have  known  it." 

"I  think  I  will  talk  to  Clarke  about  turning 
back  to  the  states.  I  am  completely  discouraged." 

So  it  was  decided  to  call  a  meeting  on  the  fol 
lowing  Saturday  and  secure  the  opinions  of  all  con 
cerned  regarding  the  search  for  the  island. 

Just  before  daybreak,  Saturday  morning 
while  young  Williams  was  on  watch,  he  spied  a 
dark  object  afloat  off  their  port  bow.  Swift  slants 
of  light  were  reaching  forward  from  the  eastern 
horizon.  Soon  Young  Williams  made  out  the  ob 
ject  to  be  a  ships  dory. 

Sails  on  the  Grace  and  Dell  were  hauled  in 
and  the  vessel  brought  into  the  wind,  the  ship 
came  to  a  faltering  stop,  and  lay  calmly  swaying 
to  and  fro  in  the  softened  swells. 

"I  thought  we  could  make  use  of  that  ships 
dory  yonder."  sang  out  young  Williams  to  Hugh, 
who  was  at  the  wheel  and  in  charge  of  the  watch. 

"Of  course  we  can,  Charley,"  replied  Hugh. 
"It  makes  little  difference  whether  we  are  sailing 
or  laying  to  for  all,  we  seem  to  accomplish,  rouse 
up  a  couple  of  the  boys  and  lower  the  starboard 
life  boat  and  go  over  and  pick  up  the  dory.  Boats 
are  about  the  only  thing  we  are  short  on,  and  that 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  115 

one  rides  high  and  dry  and  will  save  the  building 
of  one  when  we  reach  the  island." 

"When  we  reach  the  island,"  replied  Charley, 
"don't  you  think  Hugh,  this  is  rather  a  wild  goose 
chase.  It  is  winter  now,  in  Oregon  and  we  left 
there  last  spring.  Don't  you  think  we  had  ought 
to  head  for  some  definite  point?  and  besides,  the 
sailor  DeSomers  may  have  been  a  little  looney  and 
imagined  all  this  island  talk."  By  this  time  the 
life  boat  was  in  the  water  and  Charley  Williams 
with  two  of  the  sailors  were  pulling  steadily  for 
the  derelict  dory. 

Judge  the  surprise  of  Charley  and  his  com 
panions  on  reaching  the  dory  to  discover  the  bod 
ies  of  two  women  and  a  man  lying  in  the  bottom  of 
the  boat.  The  jar  of  the  ships  life  boat  had  awak 
ened  the  sleepers  of  the  dory  and  they  arose  to 
their  feet  with  cries  of  welcome  and  delight.  They 
had  been  afloat  for  twenty-one  days  in  the  open 
dory  and  their  supply  of  food  and  water  had  run 
out  the  previous  day.  The  occupants  of  the  dory 
had  given  up  all  hopes  of  rescue  and  had  lain  down 
in  their  starving  condition  resigned  to  their  fate. 

The  life  boat  took  the  dory  in  tow  and  soon 
all  were  aboard  the  Grace  and  Dell.  It  was  a  great 
event  for  our  voyagers,  this  new  acquisition  to 
their  party,  thousands  of  miles  at  sea,  and  Mrs. 
Moran,  the  mother  of  the  young  man  and  woman, 
on  hearing  of  the  peculiar  errand  of  our  party,  said 
an  island  was  as  good  as  any  place  to  her,  as  she 
had  lost  her  husband  and  all  her  earthly  goods. 


116  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

Ida  Moran  was  a  tall  dark  haired  girl  about 
eighteen  years  of  age,  and  her  brother  seemed 
about  two  years  older.  They  had  left  Dublin,  Ire 
land  eight  months  previous  to  this  and  their  fath 
er's  and  husband's  ship  had  sunk  in  a  gale,  between 
Australia  and  the  Hawaiian  Islands.  It  was  sev 
eral  days  before  the  color  came  back  to  the  cheeks 
of  Ida  Moran,  and  then  it  was  easy  to  see  that 
Miss  Moran  was  more  than  an  ordinary  beauty. 

Charley  Williams  realized  from  the  moment 
he  cast  his  eyes  on  the  girl  while  yet  in  the  dere 
lict  dory  he  had  met  his  fate. 

In  a  few  days  the  wrecked  family  were  a  part 
of  our  voyagers  party  in  the  strictest  sense.  Mrs. 
Moran  and  her  daughter  took  hold  of  the  duties 
aboard  ship  in  a  manner  to  charm  the  Clarke  and 
Williams  ladies,  and  from  the  first  the  Morans 
would  not  remain  as  guests  but  insisted  on  doing 
their  part  on  board  the  Grace  and  Dell. 

There  are  many  opportunities  for  love  meet 
ings  on  a  vessel  at  sea,  and  young  Clarke  was 
young  and  impulsive.  The  young  man  was  hoard 
ing  his  joy  for  the  future  when  he  dare  tell  the 
stately  Miss  Moran  of  his  ardent  love,  and  that 
young  lady  was  not  insensible  to  the  manly 
charms  of  Charley  Clarke.  Unlike  his  brother 
Hugh,  he  greatly  admired  the  crowning  beauty  of 
girl's  heads  and  the  black  glistening  tresses  of  Ida 
Moran  were  his  greatest  delight. 

Saturday  morning  the  entire  ships  company 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  117 

assembled  on  the  main  deck  just  forward  of  the 
pilot  house. 

Capt.  Williams  appeared  from  his  state  room 
with  a  troubled  look  on  his  face,  care  and  worry 
had  left  their  traces  on  his  otherwise  cheerful 
countenance.  He  addressed  the  assembled  voyag 
ers  as  follows: 

"Friends  and  shipmates,  it  is  my  unpleasant 
duty  as  Master  of  this  vessel,  to  say  that  I  am 
greatly  discouraged  in  our  undertaking.  For  sev 
en  months  we  have  cruised  the  southern  seas  in 
a  fruitless  search  for  an  unknown  island.  The 
thought  has  been  put  forward  by  some  of  our 
crew,  that  the  sailor  BeSomers  was  not  respon 
sible  and  the  island  was  only  the  fruits  of  his  fev 
ered  brain.  Myself  and  Martin  Clarke  are  respon 
sible  for  this  fruitless  cruise.  Our  good  women 
have  borne  with  us  uncomplainingly,  only  for 
their  cheerful  attitude  I  should  have  suggested 
turning  back  before.  We  have  ample  food  for 
many  months,  but  if  we  do  not  slaughter  the  stock 
our  water  supply  will  soon  be  exhausted.  It  now 
remains  with  you  my  dear  friends,  to  decide  what 
we  shall  do.  Clarke  and  I  will  be  governed  by 
your  wishes  in  the  matter." 

"Why  Gus  Williams,  you  old  faint  heart," 
spoke  up  Mrs.  Evans.  "Who  ever  heard  of  such  a 
thing  as  turning  back.  Why  I  never  had  such  an 
enjoyable  time  in  my  life." 

"There  is  no  turning  back  for  me,  Captain," 
spoke  up  Mrs.  Clarke.  "If  we  keep  on  cruising 


118  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

around  we  are  sure  to  strike  land  somewhere," 
and  to  this  all  the  women  aboard,  even  Ida  Moran, 
begged  the  skipper  to  be  of  good  cheer,  and  con 
tinue  the  search  for  the  island. 

So  the  cruise  continued,  first  on  one  tack, 
then  on  the  other. 

"All  hands  on  deck,"  bellowed  a  voice  down 
the  forecastle  peak  companionway  one  morning 
about  three  o'clock  a  few  days  after  the  decision 
to  continue  the  search  for  the  island.  "We  have 
got  most  of  the  canvas  in,  but  a  hurricane  is  brew 
ing  and  the  watch  on  deck  needs  help  to  stow  the 
mizzen  and  royals.  Look  lively  men,  the  storm  is 
on  us."  It  was  the  voice  of  Hugh  speaking.  As  the 
watch  below  emerged  from  their  berths  in  the  for 
ward  part  of  the  ship  a  lurid  flash  of  lightning  lit 
up  the  sea  for  miles,  and  Charley  Clarke  stand 
ing  by  his  side  remarked : 

"Hugh,  did  you  see  that  large  dark  object  off 
our  port  bow?" 

"No  Charley  what  did  it  look  like?" 

"Can't  say,  only  it  looked  big  and  solid.  Wish 
it  would  lightning  again,"  and  as  he  spoke  a  blind 
ing  flash  occurred  again  and  several  of  the  crew 
saw  what  they  believed  to  be  a  rocky  head  line. 

"Holy  Fathers,"  exclaimed  Hugh,  "We  have 
got  to  get  our  ship  out  of  this.  Its  an  island,  and 
the  storm  is  forcing  the  ship  on  it." 

"That's  easier  said  than  done,"  broke  in  Cap 
tain  Williams.  "We  haven't  a  stitch  of  canvas  on 


1HE  STORM'S  GIFT  119 

her  beside  the  storm  stisil.  Swing  out  the  boom 
on  the  schooner  mast  men.  We've  got  to  work 
her  off,  or  pile  up  on  the  rocks." 

The  wind  was  now  shouting  its  anger  in  furi 
ous  screams  through  the  bare  masts.  The  hoarse 
rumble  of  heavy  thunder  lent  terror  to  the  wild 
havoc  of  the  midnight  storm.  The  smother  of  the 
surf's  spume  flew  high  over  decks  and  bridge.  The 
ship  danced  madly  on  the  crests  and  frosted  peaks 
of  the  churning  brine  as  the  water  mountains 
bared  their  surly  fangs  in  their  race  one  after  the 
other. 

"It's  no  use  Clarke,"  said  Capt.  Williams,  "we 
can't  keep  her  off  shore,  there  seems  to  a  long 
stretch  of  smooth  shingle  to  the  southard  of  that 
headline.  If  we  can  work  her  beyond  the  headline 
we  may  save  ourselves." 

As  he  spoke  the  ship  barely  missed  a  sharp 
sand  rock  standing  alone  and  less  than  a  mile  from 
shore.  With  able  seamanship  and  good  fortune, 
the  crew  managed  to  miss  the  headline,  and  in  less 
than  ten  minutes  the  staunch  Grace  and  Dell  was 
pounding  her  keel  on  the  shingle  of  the  beach. 

All  was  bluster  and  flurry,  adjusting  life 
belts,  lowering  the  life  boats  and  collection  of  food 
for  salvage  should  the  ship  break  up,  but  true  to 
her  former  experience  the  good  ship  took  her  pun 
ishment  with  groans  it  is  true,  for  when  at  last 
she  rested  fast  on  the  beach  the  well  showed  but 
little  water.  It  was  near  high  tide,  when  the  ves 
sel  grounded  and  the  raging  combers  were  still 


120  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

flying  high  over  her  decks.  The  storm  had  passed 
by,  as  most  of  the  violent  gales  of  the  southern 
seas  are  of  short  duration.  It  is  pitiful  to  think 
of  how  much  our  voyagers  went  through  in  search 
of  the  dead  sailor's  fairyland. 

With  the  ebb  of  the  tide  the  waters  calmed 
down  and  Capt.  Williams  removed  the  main  hatch 
and  permitted  the  women  and  children  to  come  on 
deck.  Nell  Evans'  first  question  was  uttered  in 
a  half  hysterical  manner,  the  strain  had  been  too 
much  for  her,  and  with  a  hysterical  laugh  she  de 
manded  of  Abe. 

"Where  in  Hell  are  we?" 

It  was  the  first  time  Abe  Evans  had  ever 
heard  his  wife  use  an  oath,  and  as  he  took  his 
trembling  wife  in  his  arms,  he  replied. 

"We  have  just  come  out  of  Hell  to  what 
seems  like  Heaven  to  me,  Nellie  dear.  When  the 
tide  goes  out  and  leaves  us  high  and  dry,  we  will 
go  ashore  to  stay." 

"Do  you  see  any  signs  of  human  habitation" 
inquired  Mrs.  Clarke,  who  had  remained  perfectly 
calm,  through  the  terrible  ordeal. 

"No  nothing,"  replied  her  husband,  "but  dear 
in  less  than  two  hours  we  can  go  ashore  dry  shod." 

"I  believe  the  storm  has  piled  us  up  on  what 
we  were  looking  for,"  spoke  up  Capt.  Williams, 
"As  the  suns  glare  traced  a  streak  of  native  cop 
per  across  the  face  of  a  near  by  headline.  Didn't 
your  dead  sailor  say  there  was  a  streak  of  copper 
across  the  rock  near  where  they  landed?" 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  121 

"By  Jove  that's  so  he  did  Williams.  Its  a 
settled  fact  this  is  our  island  home.  Thank  God 
for  the  storm  that  guided  us  on  the  beach,  or  we 
should  have  passed  by  in  the  night,  never  dream 
ing  we  were  at  our  journey's  end." 

"Looks  as  though  every  storm  hands  us  some 
kind  of  a  gift,  but  come,  get  the  children  together. 
We  can  now  go  ashore.  We  must  all  return 
thanks  to  God  for  the  preservation  of  our  lives,  be 
fore  taking  formal  possession  of  our  future 
homes." 

I  am  most  ashamed  to  admit  that  but  little 
time  was  spared  to  give  thanks,  on  reaching  shore, 
as  time  was  too  precious  and  the  livestock  and 
stores  must  be  saved  without  delay. 

Men,  women,  and  children  all  lent  their  help, 
and  soon  a  couple  of  teams  and  wagons  were  got 
ten  off  the  ship  and  the  wagons  piled  high  with 
food  and  plunder.  They  only  hauled  the  property 
to  a  safe  distance  out  of  high  tide,  and  there  de 
posited  it  to  await  a  selection  of  a  permanent  site 
for  their  future  homes.  It  was  a  big  task  and  it 
seemed  they  had  only  just  gotten  started  when 
the  returning  tide  cut  them  off  from  the  ship,  but 
this  gave  them  time  to  move  the  goods  further 
inshore,  and  Clarke  and  the  ladies  grasped  the  op 
portunity  to  seek  out  a  place  for  their  permanent 
encampment. 

Hardly  had  they  left  the  beach  when  they 
discovered  fertile  valleys  and  pasture  lands  cover 
ed  with  verdant  grasses,  not  unlike  our  native 


122  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

clover;  as  the  sailor  had  stated,  rare  fruits  and 
nuts  abounded  every  where.  Great  tangles  of 
wild  flowers  kissed  the  senses  of  our  travelers 
with  their  ravishing  colors  and  perfumes.  Climb 
ing  grape  vines  had  picked  their  way  hand  over 
hand  to  the  tops  of  forest  trees,  many  feet  above 
their  heads. 

They  passed  a  garden  of  bananas  planted  by 
nature.  The  fruits  so  profuse  it  was  impossible 
to  walk  amongst  it.  Melons  of  many  hues  lent 
their  fragrant  scents  to  mellow  the  perfume  of  the 
flowers.  In  less  than  a  mile  from  shore  a  cold 
stream  of  water  made  its  last  wild  rush  along  a 
wooded  hillside  before  losing  itself  in  the  great 
tropical  sea. 

"There  must  be  over  five  hundred  acres  in 
this  meadow,  Clarke,"  said  Williams,  "Why  would 
this  not  make  a  good  place  to  pitch  our  homes 
beside  this  cool,  swift  running  stream?"  as  he 
spoke,  a  great  gamey  trout  jumped  high  from  the 
surface  of  the  water  and  Clarke  exclaimed : 

"See  that  trout?  That  settles  it,  this  spot  is 
good  enough  for  me." 

"Let  us  stop  here.  What  shall  we  call  the 
place  Mrs.  Evans?" 

"Call  it  Eden,"  replied  Mrs.  Evans. 

"Then  Eden  it  shall  be,"  answered  our  friends 
in  a  chorus,  and  to  the  last  day  the  town  of  Eden 
was  the  seat  of  government  of  the  island. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  123 

When  they  returned  to  the  scene  of  the  wreck 
the  Indian  girls  had  prepared  a  dinner  that  would 
have  done  justice  to  a  social  affair  in  London. 
There  were  young  fried  grouse,  a  big  buck  deer 
had  been  killed  by  Hugh,  and  savory  steaks  from 
his  tenderloin  were  smoking  on  a  large  platter. 
Eggs  from  wild  turkey  nests  were  boiled,  and 
stacked  high  in  the  middle  of  the  rough  table, 
brought  from  the  ship.  Wild  yams,  and  fruits  were 
prepared  in  quantities  sufficient  to  satisfy  a  half 
hundred  starved  guests. 

Chairs  had  been  procured  |from  the  ship, 
and  Charley  Clarke  was  seated  opposite  Ida  Moran 
at  table.  It  was  a  happy  ending  of  an  awful  ex 
perience,  to  all.  Jokes  and  much  laughter  fol 
lowed  the  course  of  the  meal.  Soon  after  the 
meal  was  ended  the  tide  was  again  low  enough  to 
approach  the  ship  with  the  wagons,  and  the  gett 
ing  of  the  stores  ashore  continued  day  and  night 
until  the  last  item  was  safely  landed  high  and  dry 
on  the  fertile  banks  of  Loveland,  the  name  given 
the  island  by  our  travelers. 

Hugh  Clarke  was  amongst  the  busiest  of  the 
toilers,  saying  little  but  evidently  thinking  a  great 
deal.  One  evening  while  sitting  alone,  his  mother 
approached  him  unobserved.  As  he  looked  up,  she 
noted  again  the  telltale  tear  on  his  cheek. 

"Why  Hughie  dear,"  remarked  his  mother, 
"have  you  been  grating  horseradish  again?" 

"No,"  replied  her  son,"it's  the  same  root  I 
was  grating  before  I  left  Oregon." 


124  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

"Tell  me  son,  there  is  something  troubling 
you.  You  are  so  quiet  and  strange.  Aren't  you 
happy  here  with  your  parents  and  friends  ?" 

"Mother,"  replied  her  son,  "I  will  never  be 
happy  anywhere  without  my  little  Lottie.  She 
seems  part  of  me.  I  know  you  think  it  a  childish 
whim,  but  it  is  different.  She  seems  mine.  Didn't 
I  take  her  from  the  great  cruel  sea  ?  I  can  never 
be  happy  mother,  until  I  can  clasp  her  hand  and 
beg  her  to  forgive  me  for  scolding  her  so  much 
for  being  a  girl." 

"Oh  she  has  forgotten  that  long  ago,  Hugh. 
She  is  a  great  big  girl  now,  Son,  most  a  young 
woman,  and  perhaps  forgotten  you." 

"Don't  say  that  Mother,  for  in  less  than  Jive 
years,  I  shall  build  a  boat  and  go  and  find  her." 

The  mother  only  sighed.  She  was  sorry  for 
her  love-sick  boy,  but  still  she  firmly  believed  that 
time  would  heal  his  imaginary  wounds. 

Men  were  in  the  forests  falling  trees.  Clarke 
and  Williams  were  constructing  a  dam  across  the 
stream  for  water  power  to  run  their  saws  and 
grind  their  grain.  The  canvas  of  the  ship  made 
excellent  shelter  from  the  rain  and  there  was  no 
hurry  for  houses  until  the  mill  was  completed  and 
the  lumber  sawed.  The  women  folk  were  planting 
garden  and  shrubbery. 

Soon  after  their  arrival  the  entire  colony  had 
met  and  organized.  Clarke  was  elected  suprcrne 
Justice,  an  office  that  carried  with  it  full  powers 
to  create  and  execute  the  laws.  Abe  Evan?  had 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  125 

been  elected  as  a  sort  of  sheriff,  but  in  that  offi 
cial  capacity,  he  was  not  in  much  demand.  Surely 
nothing  was  left  to  be  desired  in  this  earthly 
paradise.  Whole  days  were  spent  in  cruising  over 
the  island  and  on  a  rough  estimate  it  was  at  least 
twenty  miles  long  by  twelve  miles  wide.  Great 
tangles  of  oysters  covered  the  beds  of  small  ba>  s 
and  creeks  where  they  entered  the  sea.  The  tide 
flats  were  a  solid  pack  of  salt  water  clams.  Great 
bands  of  fattened  wild  geese  and  ducks  fed  on  the 
swampy  meadows;  so  tame  they  merely  walked 
away  on  the  approach  of  the  hunters.  A  band  of 
chattering  parrots  had  selected  a  permanent  home 
close  to  the  party's  encampment. 

There  were  monkeys  everywhere,  and  the  lat 
ter  proved  to  be  a  great  nuisance.  FriendH'  bear 
fed  on  the  berry  patches,  and  merelv  gave  a  snort 
and  resumed  eating  the  berries  on  the  approach 
of  strangers. 

At  dusk  on  a  nearby  fresh  wate  *  lak«  the  air 
was  full  of  leaping  trout.  Rice  fields  were  ripen 
ing  near  the  water's  edge  of  all  streams. 

"I  wonder  what  a  person  could  do  with  mon 
ey  in  a  place  like  this?"  remarked  Williams  to 
Clarke,  as  they  paddled  slowly  a  forest  .stream  in 
search  of  another  valley  for  pasturage. 

"Well",  replied  Clarke,  "Our  boy  Hugh  talks 
constantly  of  returning  to  the  states.  He  has  his 
heart  set  on  that  baby  Lottie.  I  suppose  she  is 
no  longer  a  baby  now.  Must  be  quite  a  stripling 
of  a  girl.  Don't  suppose  she  has  g?ven  him  M  sec- 


126  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

ond  thought  in  years,  but  that  makes  no  difference 
to  Hugh.  He  is  already  planning  to  build  a 
schooner  from  the  material  of  th.?  wrecked  ship. 
There  is  nothing  lacking,  and  when  the  boy  sets 
his  head  to  do  anything,  he  generally  does  it." 

As  he  finished  speaking,  a  great  broad  valley 
came  in  view;  and  such  a  valley:  Rich  grasses 
were  swaying  in  the  morning  sea  breeze;  wild 
game  were  grazing  about  the  borders  of  the  mead 
ow;  a  grove  of  wild  plums  of  various  colors  cover 
ed  the  trees  and  ground  beneath.  As  Clarke 
stepped  ashore,  his  eye  fell  on  the  ground  for  a 
minute,  and  he  picked  up  a  small  object  from  the 
shore. 

"That  aint  an  agate,"  he  exclaimed,  "Its  a 
nugget." 

"Why  sure  its  a  nugget,"  said  Williams, 
"Good  lord,  there  is  everything  her  but  dia 
monds." 

"Don't  be  so  sure  there  are  not  diamonds  too," 
remarked  Clarke.  "The  climate  is  about  right  for 
diamond  fields." 

"Guess  we  better  stroll  around  and  pick  a  few 
of  those  nuggets  though,  for  if  your  boy  Hugh  is 
going  after  that  girl  Lottie,  it  might  come  handy, 
as  a  few  sacks  of  nuggets  is  a  very  great  argument 
with  some  females." 

"Nuggets  didn't  cut  any  ice  with  his  mother, 
Williams,  my  entire  capital  was  less  than  the  val 
ue  of  this  chunk  of  virgin  gold  in  my  hand." 

"All  women  are  not  Lizzie  Clarkes,  old  man," 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  127 

replied  his  friend,  "and  it  won't  be  a  bad  idea  to 
stow  away  a  few  things  of  value  like  that  nugget, 
that  takes  up  little  room,  and  seems  to  be  the 
goal  of  most  men  and  many  women.  It  will  be  din 
ner  hour  by  the  time  we  reach  home"  resumed 
Williams,  "and  the  pull  up  here  has  given  me  an 
appetite,  besides  I  don't  like  to  keep  the  women 
waiting  meals.  I've  cooked  enough  to  know  how 
that  goes." 

On  their  arrival  at  the  camp  they  met  Nell 
Evans  with  a  worried  look  on  her  face. 

"Mrs.  Moran  is  very  sick,"  she  said,  "I  don't 
understand  what  can  ail  her,  she  is  in  high  fever, 
and  delirious  part  of  the  time.  Ida  is  most  fran 
tic.  She  hasn't  been  well  for  several  days,  but 
did  not  complain.  How  I  wish  I  knew  just  what 
to  do  for  her." 

"If  you  can't  help  her  none  of  the  rest  of  us 
can,  Nellie.  You  are  our  Doctor.  You  are  our 
main  hope,  and  dependence  in  sickness  Mrs. 
Evans,  and  I  suggest  that  you  give  your  time  en 
tirely  to  the  study  and  practice  of  that  most  won 
derful  art.  You  know  Frank  Williams  brought 
with  him  several  large  volumes  treating  on  medi 
cine,  and  surgery  so  pray  give  every  spare  mom 
ent  to  its  study.  You  know  the  future  of  the  col 
ony  depends  largely  on  your  skill,  and  perhaps 
there  are  strange  fevers  in  this  tropical  climate 
that  requires  special  treatment  and  skill." 

She  left  the  man  to  return  to  the  patient  and 
nothing  more  was  seen  of  Nell  Evans  until  the 


128  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

next  day,  when  she  reported  that  Mrs.  Moran  was 
constantly  declining  and  held  out  but  little  hope 
for  her  recovery.  Poor  Ida  and  her  brother  were 
prostrated  at  their  mother's  condition.  It  was 
such  a  short  time  ago  they  had  lost  their  father, 
and  it  seemed  a  terrible  blow  to  be  left  amongst 
practical  strangers  on  an  island  of  the  southern 
seas. 

That  night  Mrs.  Moran  died.  She  was  fully 
conscious  to  the  last.  She  had  begged  her  children 
to  sing  a  solemn  hymn  they  loved  from  their  Irish 
church.  Their  trembling  sweet  voices  held  as 
steady  as  possible  by  the  sorrowing  children,  was 
a  revelation  to  the  Clarke  Colony.  None  of  the 
party  had  ever  heard  them  sing  before,  and  the 
charm  of  their  voices  was  a  thing  to  be  remem 
bered  by  all.  Mrs.  Moran  died  at  midnight.  Her 
loving  children  with  heads  bowed  on  her  breast 
sobbed  out  their  anguish. 

Her  grave  occupies  a  flower  decked  knoll 
amidst  a  garden  of  roses.  Her  death  cast  a  gloom 
over  all  for  days,  but  the  constant  new  wonders, 
ever  coming  before  them,  helped  our  friends  par 
tially  to  overcome  their  sorrow. 

The  dam  on  the  little  river  torrent  had  been 
completed.  A  massive  overshot  water  wheel  had 
been  mounted  under  a  large  flume  running  brim 
full  of  water. 

"What  amount  of  horse-power  do  you  figure 
that  wheel  will  develop  ?"  inquired  Charley  Clarke 


PH 

s 

D 
H 
(/) 

O 

pq 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  129 

of  Abe  Evans,  as  they  stood  before  the  wheel 
just  prior  to  turning  on  the  water. 

"Figure  is  right,"  replied  Evans.  "I  have 
just  figured  it  out  exactly.  It  is  no  guess  work  at 
all.  That  wheel  is  thirty  feet  in  diameter  and  it 
has  a  four  foot  breast.  It  will  carry  three  tons  of 
water  on  a  fifteen  foot  leverage  at  forty  revolu 
tions  per  minute,  it  will  develop  seventy  horse 
power,  and  there  is  water  here  for  ten  more 
wheels,  so  we  will  hardly  lack  for  power  to  run 
machinery  of  any  description." 

Soon  the  sawing  of  lumber  commenced  and 
building  of  houses  was  in  order.  The  elaborate 
home  standing  on  the  heights  near  the  west  bor 
der  of  the  town  of  Eden  was  the  first  built.  It  was 
designed  and  finished  by  Paul  Likens  and  the 
scroll  work  about  the  porches  and  gables  was  so 
intricate  and  delicate  it  was  easy  to  believe  it  was 
executed  by  a  master.  Paul's  wife  had  presented 
him  with  two  more  girl  babies  since  last  we  gave 
them  mention,  and  for  a  wonder  uncle  Hugh  just 
worshipped  the  curly  headed  children.  My,  how 
ones  ideas  change  as  one  grows  older.  In  three 
years  the  island  was  a  busy  hive  of  industry. 

Hugh  gave  some  of  his  time  to  hunting  and 
was  ever  an  inveterate  fisherman.  His  greatest 
trouble  was  to  find  a  spot  where  the  fish  was  shy 
and  hard  to  take.  For  close  to  the  sea,  there  was 
no  sport  in  angling  owing  to  the  great  schools 
of  trout  that  came  in  to  seek  the  spawning 
ground. 


130  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 


Chapter  XJI 
Charley  Clarke's  Wooing. 

"Dearest  Ida,  please  listen." 

The  speaker  was  Charley  Clarke.  "It  is  now 
most  two  years  since  your  dear  mother  died," 
continued  he,  "You  know  sweetheart,  I  have  lov 
ed  you  since  the  day  I  beheld  your  sweet  face  as 
you  stood  so  bravely  resigned  in  that  open  dory 
in  the  great  heaving  tropical  sea.  I  have  spoken 
to  your  brother,  Ida  dear,  and  he  has  wished  me 
luck  in  my  suit."  The  lisp  of  a  nightbird  strained 
through  the  open  window.  Ida  stood  beside  him, 
her  face  turned  from  him,  bowing  at  the  shrine  of 
his  great  love,  the  firelight  had  smothered  the 
darkness  into  a  peaceful  maze. 

"God!  girl!"  continued  Charley,  "I  cannot  live 
longer  without  you.  I  have  waited  so  long."  He 
had  panned  out  the  last  remaining  jewel  of  his 
soul. 

At  last  the  girl  looked  up  her  eyes  aglow. 

"Charley,  my  lover,  I  too  have  loved  you  since 
the  first.  Oh  I  am  so  happy,  so  happy,"  and  she 
clasped  her  arms  about  his  neck  in  the  happiness 
of  her  new  found  shrine. 

When  the  young  boys  learned  of  the  ap 
proaching  wedding  of  Charley  Clarke  and  Ida 
Moran,  young  Evans  remarked  to  several  boys 
about  his  age. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  131 

"We'll  give  'em  a  charivari  that  will  spoil 
their  slumbers  for  one  night  at  least,"  and  the 
island  kids  made  their  word  good. 

Martin  Clarke  had  never  married  a  white 
couple  before,  and  the  thought  came  to  him,  that 
perhaps,  he  hadn't  authority  to  do  so.  Although 
he  had  been  invested  with  executive  power  by  the 
entire  population. 

"It  sort  of  worries  me"  said  he  "to  do  this 
thing,  especially  as  he  is  my  own  son."  Then  a 
happy  thought  struck  him.  "Well  why  didn't  I 
think  of  that  before,"  he  mused  to  himself,"There 
is  Capt.  Williams,  with  a  master's  ticket,  signed 
by  the  highest  authority  of  the  states.  By  Jove 
we'll  just  let  Gus  tie  the  knot." 

The  dainty  finery  the  ladies  brought  forth  to 
deck  the  bride  in  for  her  wedding  is  almost  beyond 
description.  But  the  women  folk  had  had  a  free 
hand  and  a  full  purse  at  Astoria,  before  they  left 
there,  and  it  appeared  that  they  had  taken  their 
husbands  at  their  word  and  spent  plenty  of  mon 
ey.  For  the  wedding  gown  of  Ida  Moran  would 
make  many  a  bride  of  today  envious. 

The  wedding  was  a  pretty  affair.  There  were 
orange  blossoms  and  bridesmaids.  There  was  a 
wedding  march  by  Mrs.  Clarke  on  a  large  chapel 
organ  Charley  had  procured  for  his  mother.  There 
were  kisses  and  good  wishes.  Rice  and  old  shoes, 
and  last  but  not  least,  a  charivari  that  lasted 
until  daylight  the  next  morning,  notwithstanding 
the  young  married  couple  plied  the  young  scound- 


132  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

rels  with  home-made  candies  and  rarest  fruits. 

"Give  'em  plenty/'  sang  out  the  Williams  boy. 
"There  will  be  no  divorces  on  this  island  so  this 
pair  will  only  have  the  pleasure  of  getting  mar 
ried  once." 

The  gifts  showered  on  the  young  married 
couple  set  them  up  completely  for  housekeeping, 
and  I  sometimes  wonder  if  some  of  my  young 
readers  would  not  be  willing  to  change  places  with 
Charley  Clarke,  and  his  charming  young  wife, 
Ida. 

When  it  rained  down  on  that  island,  you 
couldn't  really  call  it  a  rain,  it  was  just  a  great 
pour  down.  Furious  sheets  of  water  fell  in  tor 
rents  for  an  hour  or  two,  then  the  sun  shone  forth 
and  the  perfume  kissed  breezes  smote  the  senses 
with  a  joy  next  to  intoxication. 

"Gosh  darn  your  darn  skin !" 

It  was  Abe  Evans  in  mortal  struggle  with  a 
great  brown  bear.  He  had  shot  the  beast  and 
thought  it  dead.  He  had  carelessly  laid  his  gun 
aside  and  approached  what  he  thought  was  a  dead 
bear.  On  his  approach  the  animal  had  reared  on 
its  hind  legs,  and  grasping  Evans  in  his  arms  was 
slowly  squeezing  our  hunter's  life  out.  Evans  at 
last  succeeded  in  drawing  his  hunting  knife  and 
as  he  uttered  the  swear  words  above  mentioned 
he  had  succeeded  in  plunging  the  sharp  long  blade 
into  the  animal's  heart. 

"I'll  never  shake  hands  with  another  bear  un 
til  I  shoot  him  once  for  luck  after  he  is  dead." 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  133 

soliloquized  Evans.  "These  overgrown  opossums 
in  this  country  are  new  to  me.  Guess  I'll  leave  the 
brute  here  and  hike  for  home,  losing  so  much 
blood  makes  me  see  black  spots,"  and  with  this 
remark  Evans  fell  senseless  beside  his  enemy,  the 
bear. 

Night  came  and  no  Abe  Evans  appeared. 
Shortly  after  dark  Nellie  became  alarmed  and 
roused  up  the  Colony.  A  hasty  search  was  or 
ganized  and  to  their  joy  they  were  met  by  Flora, 
Evans'  pet  collie  dog,  and  while  whining  her  de 
light  at  meeting  her  friends,  she  turned  on  the 
back  track  and  led  Nellie  and  her  party  three 
miles  through  the  timber  where  Evans  and  the 
bear  laid. 

Evans  had  regained  consciousness  but  was 
unable  to  move  hand  or  foot.  As  he  had  been  cut 
and  scratched  from  head  to  toe  by  the  vicious 
brute,  they  hastily  prepared  a  stretcher  and  car 
ried  the  injured  man  to  his  home,  where  Nellie 
again  showed  her  skill  with  needle  and  cat  gut. 
A  week  later  found  Evans  up  and  about  swearing 
vengeance  on  all  bear  kind,  and  as  proof  that  he 
meant  what  he  said,  should  you  visit  the  Evans 
home  you  would  find  the  floors  covered  with  great 
tanned  bear  rugs  from  kitchen  to  garret. 

Buds,  blossoms  and  ripe  fruits  hung  on  the 
bushes  and  trees  constantly.  Flowers  of  the  gard 
ens  blazed  in  the  morning  splendor,  only  drooping 
slightly  in  the  heat. 

Hugh  Clarke  had   finished   the  ways   for   a 


134  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

schooner.  The  keel  was  to  be  ninety  feet  long. 
His  brother-in-law  Paul  Likens,  was  as  handy  at 
ship  building  as  he  was  at  building  houses.  Great 
forests  of  a  species  of  cedar  known  in  Oregon  as 
Port  Orford,  were  close  at  hand.  Plenty  of  spruce 
abounded  on  the  lowlands  for  ships  knees.  It  was 
an  ideal  place  for  shipbuilding.  The  sawmill 
could  handle  any  timbers  necessary  in  the  con 
struction  of  a  boat  of  the  size  proposed.  The  bolts 
and  hardware  of  the  Grace  and  Dell  had  been  sal 
vaged  and  the  supply  was  sufficient  to  build  two 
boats  tHe  size  Hugh  proposed  building,  for  be  it 
known,  our  friend,  Hugh  Clarke,  had  not  for  one 
moment  given  up  his  promise  to  some  day  return 
to  the  states  and  even  sail  to  France  if  necessary 
to  find  his  darling  Lottie.  The  young  man  spent 
hours  pondering  over  the  problem  of  how  he  could 
excuse  himself  for  his  selfish  brutish  manner  in 
which  he  had  treated  the  child,  and  often  in  the 
seclusion  of  his  bedroom  he  would  take  from  his 
trunk  a  package  of  flaxen  curls.  They  were  the 
curls  he  had  so  ruthlessly  cut  from  the  child's  head 
the  morning  before  she  left  for  Washington. 

The  cutting  of  small  grain  was  at  its  height. 
Wheat  and  oats  stood  four  feet  high  in  the  fields 
and  was  being  now  cut  down  with  a  horse-drawn 
mowing  machine  that  had  just  been  invented  and 
placed  on  the  market  before  Frank  Williams  left 
Chicago.  It's  true  enough  that  in  tropical  clim 
ates  white  people  become  lazy.  It  is  so  in  all  trop 
ical  countries,  and  Williams  was  interested  in  the 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  135 

building  of  Hugh's  ship,  thinking  it  would  be 
handy  to  sail  to  some  island  or  perhaps  even  China 
or  Japan,  and  find  some  cheap  labor,  but  on 
broaching  the  subject  to  Hugh,  he  was  advised  by 
that  young  man  that  after  he  had  performed  the 
mission  next  to  his  heart,  he  could  use  the  schoon 
er  as  a  nigger  transport  if  he  chose,  but  until  then 
no  colored  feet  would  soil  the  decks  of  his  ship 
that  was  to  be  named  the  Lottie. 

Had  there  been  market  for  produce  the  entire 
population  would  have  become  rich  in  a  few  years. 
As  it  was  there  was  nothing  left  for  one  to  wish 
for.  Already  they  were  making  sugar  from  the 
great  wild  cane  brakes.  The  women  in  spare  times 
were  weaving  the  most  delicate  cloths  and  laces. 
Great  vats  of  ripening  wine  from  the  mission 
grapes  stood  in  cool  shades  along  a  limpid  stream. 
The  wine  wrung  from  the  mission  grape  will 
stand  for  years  in  open  vats,  gaining  new  sparkle 
and  bouquet. 

This  wine  was  always  served  with  the  Sunday 
feasts,  held  in  a  temple  built  to  conduct  spiritual 
istic  meetings,  and  were  I  not  afraid  of  raising  an 
argument  I  could  tell  you  many  strange  things 
brought  out  at  these  simple  meetings  that  proves 
beyond  a  doubt  that  the  spirit  of  our  dead  can  re 
turn  to  us  if  they  choose. 

One  morning  Hugh  informed  his  mother  he 
would  like  some  provision  prepared  for  his  pack  as 
he  was  taking  a  trip  to  a  distant  part  of  the  island 
that  had  not  as  yet  been  visited  by  our  friends. 


136  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

He  asked  her  to  put  in  plenty  of  bread  and  spices 
as  he  would  take  his  gun  and  rod  and  with  the 
fruits  there  was  little  use  of  carrying  anything 
more.  He  had  picked  up  some  sticks  of  timber  on 
the  beach  that  resembled  oak  in  its  toughness, 
and  he  believed  it  came  from  some  remote  corner 
of  the  island.  He  was  much  in  need  of  this  type 
of  material  for  the  boat,  and  was  sparing  no 
means  in  his  power  to  procure  the  best  timber 
available.  He  left  soon  after  he  had  breakfasted. 
The  trali  led  him  beside  a  cool  rushing  stream. 
A  deep  smooth  path  had  been  formed  by  the  hoofs 
and  paws  of  animals  -of  the  island  who  had  fol 
lowed  the  stream  for  its  shade  for  years.  For 
miles  the  youth  gave  no  thought  to  his  surround 
ings.  The  watch  fires  of  his  memory  were  hard 
aglow  in  thought.  Recollections  of  his  treatment 
of  little  Lottie  haunted  him  until  his  shoulders 
drooped  like  willows  around  a  forest  meadow.  In 
his  new  found  impassioned  idolatry  for  the  child 
he  began  to  realize  the  sterner  realities  of  life. 

A  great  eagle  laid  its  course  toward  the 
morning  sun.  "I  believe  that  bird  is  a  good  token. 
I  think  I'll  follow  the  course  set  by  that  American 
emblem,  he  mused  to  himself.  Its  the  first  of  its 
kind  I  have  seen  in  Loveland,"  and  in  the  careless 
wisdom  of  youth  he  did  well  to  follow  the  great 
bird.  He  had  just  arrived  at  the  age  where  his 
life  was  sweetened  by  dreamy  thought.  As  he 
left  the  swift  running  stream  to  cross  the  moun 
tain  :  nature  had  chisled  a  trail  across  its  rim.  Al- 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  137 

ways  as  he  walked  on,  his  thoughts  were  of  Lot 
tie.  It  puzzled  him  to  form  a  plan  for  laying  his 
first  wreath  of  love  at  her  feet.  Like  a  miser  he 
was  hoarding  his  joy  for  the  future.  The  soft 
warm  wind  kissed  the  mountain  roses  and  spread 
a  passion  of  perfume  about  him. 

"By  crackens !"  he  spoke  aloud.  "If  she  were 
only  here,"  then  his  face  clouded  as  his  memory 
hung  on  the  shrine  of  a  fresh  regret.  As  he 
began  the  descent  of  the  mountain,  he  was  amazed 
at  a  great  overhanging  ledge  of  crystal  quartz. 
He  left  the  trail  to  examine  the  gorgeous  cliff 
sparkling  in  the  sunlight  more  closely.  Judge  his 
surprise  on  reaching  the  foot  of  the  cliff  to  find 
many  strings  of  native  gold  tracing  its  way  over 
the  face  of  the  entire  formation. 

"It's  good  things  do  not  exist  in  the  United 
States  as  they  do  here,"  he  soliloquized,  "or  people 
would  starve  to  death.  They  would  become  too 
lazy  to  feed  themselves." 

He  gave  but  little  time  to  admiring  the  great 
enameled  rock,  as  his  mission  was  hard  wood  to 
complete  his  ship  so  he  could  go  in  search  of  his 
treasured  Lottie. 

Under  a  magnificent  bread  fruit  tree,  he  ate 
his  lunch.  After  satisfying  his  appetite,  he  laid 
down  beneath  a  dense  flowering  vine  to  rest  until 
the  cool  of  the  evening  before  resuming  his  trav 
els. 

When  he  awoke  a  smile  was  still  in  his  heart. 
He  had  dreamed  through  the  rosary  of  his  awak- 


138  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

ening  love.  The  sun  was  kneeling  at  the  foot  of 
the  horizon.  Great  shadows  writhed  with  the 
swaying  of  the  forest;  soon  the  twilight  of  the 
softened  sky  was  paneled  in  colors  beyond  the 
brush  of  an  artist.  He  had  resumed  his  pack  and 
was  hurrying  along  a  new  found  trail,  he  had 
stopped  to  drink  from  a  chilly  spring,  when  on 
raising  his  eyes  he  beheld  an  object  plucking  fruit 
from  a  clump  of  tangled  dwarfed  trees.  He  gazed 
for  a  minute  in  surprise  and  wonder,  then  arose  to 
his  feet.  As  he  did  so  the  creature  spied  him,  and 
with  a  scream  of  terror  ran  with  the  swiftness  of 
a  deer  through  the  tangle  of  tree  and  vine. 

"By  crackins  that's  a  human,"  he  exclaimed, 
"least  ways,  it  ran  away  on  two  legs.  Yes,  and  it 
had  long  hair  hanging  down  its  back.  It's  a  won 
der  none  of  us  have  ever  seen  it  before,  but  it  must 
be  over  fifteen  miles  from  Eden.  I  think  I'll  try 
and  overtake  the  creature.  Wish  I  could  have 
gotten  a  closer  look  at  it.  Perhaps  there  are  oth 
ers  hereabout,  anyway  I'm  fresh  with  rest  and 
food  and  I'll  give  the  thing  a  chase." 

He  darted  rapidly  forward  in  the  direction 
the  object  had  taken  and  it  was  little  trouble 
through  the  broken  grasses  to  follow  the  trail. 
Soon  he  left  the  timber  and  came  out  on  a  great 
open  prairie.  At  a  distance  of  a  half  mile  he  could 
see  the  flying  object  just  entering  another  belt 
of  timber. 

"By  crackins  that  critter  is  handy  on  its 
legs,"  he  spoke  aloud,  "it  gained  nearly  a  half  mile 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  139 

on  me  since  we  started  and  I've  been  traveling 
some."  At  this  he  put  forth  extra  effort  and  in 
less  than  fifteen  minutes  he  was  entering  the  strip 
of  timber  at  the  point  where  he  had  seen  the  pe 
culiar  human  enter,  for  by  this  time  he  was  sure 
the  creature  was  human.  The  forest  was  so 
dense  there  were  no  grasses,  so  he  lost  the  trail. 
He  was  wandering  aimlessly  on,  having  given  up 
all  hopes  of  finding  the  creature  when  at  the  base 
of  a  small  hill  he  noticed  the  mouth  of  a  cave.  It 
was  becoming  dark  so  he  crept  up  to  the  mouth  of 
the  cave  carefully,  and  set  himself  to  listen  if  the 
place  was  inhabited  by  man  or  beast.  He  had  not 
waited  long  when  a  low  pitiful  sobbing  in  a  wom 
an's  voice  broke  on  his  ear. 

What  was  he  to  do  ?  It  was  now  densely  dark 
in  the  forest,  so  he  decided  to  wait  until  daylight 
before  discovering  himself  to  what  he  knew  now 
to  be  a  sorrowing  woman. 

So  Hugh  sat  down  close  to  the  mouth  of 
the  cave  to  await  the  dawn  of  the  coming  day. 
It  was  a  long  weary  wait.  Several  times  during 
the  night  he  could  hear  the  pitiful  crying  of  the 
woman,  and  short  sentences  of  words  spoken  as 
he  believed  in  French. 

At  last  the  dawn  found  a  path  amongst  the 
forest  trees,  and  a  slant  of  daylight  entered  the 
cave  for  several  feet,  but  Hugh  on  peering  in  could 
see  nothing  of  the  strange  inhabitant.  At  last  he 
decided  to  enter  the  cave,  and  this  he  cautiously 
did.  As  he  uttered  the  words  "Lady  have  no 


140  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

fear,"  the  woman  sprang  from  a  niche  in  the  rock 
on  his  shoulders  like  a  furious  lioness.  It  was  all 
the  youth  could  do  to  keep  her  from  tearing  out 
his  eyes,  and  he  was  compelled  to  use  considerable 
force  to  protect  himself.  At  last  she  fell  panting 
and  exhausted  at  his  feet.  The  glare  of  her  eyes 
in  the  darkened  cavern  resembled  live  coals  in  a 
smouldering  fire. 

Hugh  spoke  in  a  gentle  soothing  tone,  but  the 
only  reply  was  the  smothered  sobbing  like  he  had 
heard  before.  "You  must  come  with  me  poor 
woman,"  spoke  Hugh,  "I  cannot  leave  you  here  by 
yourself.  How  long  have  you  lived  alone  this 
way  ?"  he  continued,  never  dreaming  he  would  get 
a  reply. 

"I'm  not  alone"  the  tattered  creature  an 
swered  in  a  sweet  voice,  with  a  French  accent. 
"My  husband  and  baby  are  with  me,  Hush !"  she 
continued  "or  you  will  wake  the  baby.  She  is 
sleeping  in  her  crib  beside  our  bed.  My  husband  is 
at  work  at  the  office.  He  is  very  busy  getting 
things  arranged  so  we  can  leave  for  America  by 
the  next  boat,  which  sails  from  London." 

"But  my  dear  woman,"  argued  Hugh,  "You 
must  come  with  me,  you  are  alone  here." 

"Kindly  leave  my  house,  Sir,"  commanded  the 
woman,  and  it  now  dawned  on  Hugh,  that  the  poor 
creature  had  lost  her  reason. 

There  was  nothing  left  for  Hugh  to  do  but 
formulate  some  plan  to  get  the  woman  away  from 
this  place.  He  well  knew  that  most  demented  peo- 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  141 

pie  were  very  shrewd  in  some  matters,  so  he  set 
himself  thinking  up  a  plausible  story  that  would 
appeal  to  the  poor  creature.  At  last  he  struck 
an  idea. 

"Madam,"  he  said  in  a  lowered  voice  "Your 
husband  is  ill  at  his  office  the  doctor  has  sent  me 
for  you,  as  he  dare  not  move  him  until  he  is  better, 
will  you  come  with  me  or  shall  I  call  a  cab?" 

"Oh  wait  until  I  get  my  darling  baby.  I  have 
walked  to  the  office  many  times,"  and  as  she  spoke 
she  darted  into  a  dark  corner  of  the  cave  and  in  a 
moment  returned  with  a  large  rag  doll  clasped  in 
her  arms.  Here  was  a  problem  for  an  older  and 
wiser  head  to  ponder  over.  How  was  he  to  get  the 
poor  demented  creature  over  the  trails  fifteen 
miles  or  more  to  the  town  of  Eden. 

"Let  me  have  your  baby,  Madam,  and  take 
my  arm,"  and  as  the  poor  creature  handed  Hugh 
the  bundle  of  rags  wrapped  about  a  pine  stick,  she 
tucked  the  rags  gently  about  a  pair  of  imaginary 
baby  feet. 

"Et  iss  gude  of  you  to  carry  her,"  the  poor 
woman  said,  "I  have  a  arm  injure.  It  iss  from  a 
fall  from  ze  big  rock  near  ze  sea."  The  woman 
had  lapsed  into  broken  French  and  ended  her 
speech,  in  that  language,  and  it  is  needless  to  say 
Hugh  could  not  understand  a  word. 

Thus  they  traveled  on  for  some  time,  when  a 
gust  of  wind  blew  back  the  rags  from  her  arm, 
and  Hugh  saw  that  the  arm  had  been  broken,  and 
the  point  of  fracture  had  never  united.  The  worn- 


142  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

an  begged  to  take  the  baby  for  a  while,  and  after 
arguing  for  a  time  he  was  compelled  to  hand  the 
wooden  and  rag  bundle  to  the  poor  creature  who 
clasped  it  to  her  breast  crooning  a  French  lullaby, 
and  smoothing  back  imaginary  curls.  Again  her 
mind  seemed  brighter  and  she  said : 

"It  is  but  a  few  blocks  now,  you  can  take  the 
baby,  I  must  dry  my  eyes  and  smooth  my  hair,  as 
I  must  not  act  alarmed  when  I  meet  Jules.  Did 
the  Doctor  say  he  was  seriously  ill?"  she  contin 
ued.  "It  is  so  strange  for  him  he  has  never  been 
ill  a  day  since  our  marriage." 

Thus  they  walked  for  miles.  The  woman 
seemed  to  never  tire.  They  had  reached  the  trail 
at  the  spot  where  Hugh  had  left  the  small  river 
to  cross  the  mountain.  Anchored  to  a  sapling  was 
a  small  boat  used  for  hunting  and  fishing  by  Nell 
Evans  and  her  husband.  Hugh  was  about  to 
take  possession  of  'the  boat  when  Nell's  cheery 
voice  rang  out,  and  at  the  same  time  Mrs.  Evans 
spied  the  strange  woman  and  the  make  believe 
baby  in  Hughs  arms. 

Hugh  placed  his  finger  over  his  lips  to  com 
mand  silence,  and  straightening  himself  up  said  to 
his  poor  companion: 

"This  is  the  nurse  and  doctor,  we  will  get  in 
their  carriage,  and  hasten  to  your  sick  husband." 

This  speech  was  enough  for  the  shrewd 
Evans  to  grasp  the  situation  and  as  the  demented 
creature  seated  herself  in  the  stern  seat,  she  said : 

"Give  me  the  baby  please,  Monsieur,  and  have 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  143 

the  cabman  drive  us  swift  as  possible.  Jules  will 
be  impatient  for  me." 

The  pull  down  the  river  was  swift,  and  as  the 
hazy  moon  broadened  above  the  rim  of  the  hori 
zon,  Abe  Evans  left  the  boat  and  hastened  on 
ahead  to  inform  his  friends  of  the  peculiar  situa 
tion. 

A  room  in  the  Clarke  home  was  hastily  pre 
pared  for  the  new  comer,  and  as  she  entered  the 
room  she  looked  inquiringly  about,  and  exclaim 
ed: 

"Where  is  Jules  ?  Don't  tell  me  he  is  dead,  he 
was  so  well  and  happy  this  morning  when  he  left 
home!" 

At  this  she  resumed  fondling  the  rag  baby. 
Her  eyes  became  duller  and  her  mind  a  blank. 

Nell  Evans  was  summoned  to  take  care  of  the 
peculiar  case,  and  with  feminine  skill  she  succeed 
ed  in  removing  the  rags  from  the  demented  wom 
an,  and  clothed  her  in  clean  dainty  night  robes, 
then  placed  her  in  a  bed  so  cozy  it  brought  a  new 
sparkle  to  her  eye.  Nell,  while  removing  the  rags 
from  the  woman,  had  discovered  a  delicate  gold 
chain  about  her  neck,  and  attached  to  it  was  a 
golden  locket,  with  the  monogram  "J.  F."  and 
around  the  lower  rim  of  the  trinket  were  the 
words  from  "Jules  Fuquay  to  his  wife  Dec.  25, 
1859"  that's  the  same  name;  sure  its  the  same 
name  of  our  sea  waif,  "Lottie  Fuquay." 

The  poor  patient  had  fallen  into  a  low  fever, 
then  elapsed  into  unconsciousness.  Nell  had  dis- 


144  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

covered  the  pitiful  condition  of  her  arm,  and  had 
with  skill  brought  the  parts  together,  and  placed 
the  member  in  a  fracture  box,  not  having  material 
for  a  plaster  cast. 

Hugh  had  retraced  his  steps  to  the  southern 
portion  of  the  island,  where  he  had  discovered  the 
demented  woman  and  given  up  his  hunt  for  hard 
Wood  in  order  to  take  care  of  the  helpless  creature. 
Less  than  a  mile  from  the  cave  he  found  a  body 
of  oak,  for  at  least  it  bore  acorns.  Still  the  trees 
were  much  taller  and  straighter  than  any  he  had 
ever  seen  before,  but  he  accounted  for  this  from 
the  fact  that  it  stood  much  thicker  on  the  ground 
than  any  body  of  oak  he  had  ever  before  seen. 
Soon  he  had  a  number  of  men  in  the  oak  forest, 
and  a  sufficient  amount  was  gotten  out  to  serve 
his  needs.  The  heavy  logs  fastened  together  were 
floated  during  a  calm  to  a  point  where  he  had 
constructed  the  ways  for  his  ship,  ship  knees,  keel 
kelson,  masts  and  decking  were  all  on  the  ground 
Rigging  and  hardware  were  in  abundance.  The 
crops  for  the  middle  season  were  in  the  bins. 
Dances  and  amateur  theatricals  had  been  going 
on  for  weeks,  everybody  was  happy  and  contented. 
Only  our  hero,  Hugh,  seemed  worried  and  dissat 
isfied  for  today  Mrs.  Evans  had  confided  to  him 
the  secret  of  the  finding  of  the  trinket  about  the 
stranger's  neck. 

"There  may  be  hundreds  of  Fuquay  families 
in  the  world,"  said  Nellie  Evans  to  Hugh.  "Still 
this  woman  may  be  a  relative.  She  seems  much 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  145 

brighter  at  times.  I  have  offered  her  a  large  life 
like  wax  doll  your  sister  Jennie  used  to  have,  but 
she  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,  and  only 
yesterday  morning  she  demanded  to  know  how 
that  filthy  stick  and  bundle  of  rags  came  in  her 
bed.  I  believe  Hugh,  the  poor  thing  will  regain 
her  senses." 

"Mrs.  Evans  you  certainly  work  miracles,  and 
that  man  Abe  of  yours  is  another  wonder.  It  isn't 
because  he  is  lazy,  but  he  has  invented  a  machine 
to  saw  down  great  trees  along  the  creeks  with 
bolts  of  wire.  Only  this  morning  I  saw  it  working. 
He  has  a  floating  scow  with  an  undershot  water 
wheel  on  the  creek,  which  he  moves  about  at  will. 
He  has  two  spools  to  hold  ordinary  fence  wire. 
I  mean  the  smooth  kind:  on  one  is  placed  a  coil  of 
wire.  This  apparatus  is  dogged  to  the  tree,  the 
end  of  the  wire  is  carried  around  the  tree  and  fas 
tened  to  the  empty  spool.  The  wire  as  it  is  pulled 
from  the  full  spool  of  wire  runs  through  a  crimp 
that  cuts  small  nicks  in  the  smooth  wire.  A  clutch 
shifts  the  wire  from  one  spool  to  the  other.  The 
water  wheel  in  the  creek  is  geared  to  give  the  cor 
rect  speed.  There  is  no  friction  as  the  sawing  sur 
face  is  the  same  on  all  sides.  In  less  than  five  min 
utes  I  saw  his  invention  fall  a  tree  that  measured 
five  feet  at  the  base." 

"So  that's  what  Abe  has  been  at  for  so  long," 
said  Nellie  "I  thought  it  rather  strange,  he  hasn't 
kissed  me  more  than  twice  a  day  for  over  a  month. 
I  tell  you  young  man,  a  woman  wants  affection. 


146  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

It  don't  matter  what  her  other  surroundings  are, 
if  she  gets  plenty  of  love.  Hugh  you  are  still  most 
a  boy,  but  remember  this,  a  woman  lives  for  love. 
Her  husband's  caress  at  fifty  is  dearer  if  possible 
than  it  was  at  twenty.  I  tell  you  boy,  they're  all 
alike  when  it  comes  to  love.  The  queen  on  her 
throne,  or  the  scarlet  damsel  of  the  underworld, 
all  live  for  the  same  thing,  for  that  greater  treas 
ure  of  all  to  women — a  brave  man's  love.  But  I 
won't  lecture  you,  Hugh,  you  do  not  know  yet 
what  love  means  to  all  as  they  grow  older." 

"Don't  be  too  sure  Mrs.  Evans,  maybe  I  am 
wiser  than  you  suspect." 

"Why  replied  Nell,  "I  haven't  noticed  you 
paying  any  attention  to  our  limited  number  of 
eligible  girls." 

"Right  you  are  Mrs.  Evans,  my  love  was  born 
from  a  storm.  It  is  growing  to  be  a  storm  within 
me.  I  am  counting  the  days  and  months,  until 
my  ship  is  completed,  and  I  will  sail  forth  from 
this  island  home  in  search  of  my  heart's  desire, 
my  own  Darling  Lottie." 

"That's  so,"  replied  Nell,  "your  girl  from  the 
storm  was  named  Lottie.  Strange  too,  my  pa 
tient  often  in  her  rambling  talks,  calls  her  imag 
inary  baby  Lottie." 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  147 


Chapter  XIII 
The  Hula  Hula  Dance. 

"What  in  hell  is  that  bunch  of  things  swimm 
ing  or  floating  into  the  mouth  of  the  bay?"  ex 
claimed  Captain  Williams,  as  he  pointed  to  a  cur 
ious  fleet  of  moving  objects  just  entering  the  bay, 
that  seemed  too  large  for  birds,  and  too  small 
for  boats. 

"If  you  swear  like  that  again  before  the  chil 
dren,  I  will  get  out  a  petition  to  have  you  recalled 
from  the  office  of  sheriff  of  Loveland,"  flashingly 
spoke  up  his  wife.  "Gus",  she  continued,  "it  isn't 
necessary  to  cuss  just  because  you  are  a  sea  cap 
tain,  nor  is  it  absolutely  necessary  for  a  mule 
skinner  to  swear,  although  I  believe  they  have 
greater  provocation." 

"Huh,"  replied  her  husband."  Darned  if 
there  ain't  some  kind  of  animals  in  them  dish- 
pans  floating  out  there.  By  Gar!  one  of  them  is 
waving  a  rag  of  some  kind.  Come  on,  Clarke,  let's 
go  down  to  the  beach  and  find  out  what  kind  of 
monkey  coops  are  invading  us,  maybe  we  will  have 
a  fight  on  our  hands." 

The  tops  of  the  tiny  floats  were  catching  a 
breath  of  air  from  the  afternoon  breeze.  There 
was  a  steering  appliance  at  the  rear  of  each  pecu 
liar  shaped  float,  and  as  Clarke  and  Williams  ap- 


148  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

preached  the  waters  edge,  the  entire  fleet  headed 
toward  them.  They  soon  discovered  there  was  but 
one  occupant  in  each  float,  and  that  he  or  she,  was 
lying  in  a  bed  of  down  plucked  from  the  breasts 
of  sea  birds.  As  the  occupants  of  the  tiny  floats 
began  arising  to  their  feet,  it  became  evident  that 
they  were  also  natives  of  a  tropical  climate  for 
barring  necklaces  of  pearl  beads  about  their  necks, 
arms  and  ankles,  together  with  a  meager  loin  cloth 
woven  from  sea  fibre,  they  Were  literally  naked. 

As  a  somewhat  larger  float  touched  the  shore, 
a  male  occupant  arose  to  his  feet,  and  with  a 
broad  smile  and  a  lavish  flourish  of  both  arms 
he  began  clapping  his  hands  and  stepped  ashore. 
He  knelt  in  the  sands  and  drew  a  circle  with  his 
finger  in  the  sand  of  the  beach.  He  next  traced 
several  simple  characters  within  the  drawn  cir 
cle,  after  which  he  took  a  pinch  of  the  sand  from 
the  circle,  and  threw  it  high  into  the  air.  Then 
he  drew  from  the  girdle  about  his  waist,  a  small 
green  twig  from  some  vine  or  tree,  and  moving 
amongst  the  new  comers,  who  had  by  this  time 
all  landed,  struck  each  lightly  on  the  breast  with 
the  twig.  As  he  did  so  each  member  of  his  party 
of  which  there  was  at  least  thirty,  joined  hands 
and  circled  about  him,  a  murmur  of  vocal  melody 
came  from  their  lips  swelling  in  volume  as  they  in 
creased  their  speed  about  their  leader.  When  the 
chant  arose,  to  a  torrent  of  blended  voices,  they 
separated  hands,  and  a  dance  took  place  that  no 
words  of  mine  can  describe.  I  have  been  told  that 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  149 

later  a  dance  has  been  exhibited  called  the  Hula 
Hula.  Still  I  know  no  such  dance  has  been  toler 
ated  in  civilized  society. 

It  was  a  gorgeous  play  of  female  muscles. 
Muscles  that  are  beyond  belief.  Men  of  today  do 
not  dream  that  the  wife  by  his  side  is  made  up  of 
a  web  of  muscle  springs  so  powerful  and  intricate, 
that  she  could  if  she  chose,  delight  and  mystify 
him  with  the  splendid  control  of  this  web  work 
of  charming  muscles. 

The  entire  colony  had  gathered  about  the  fren 
zied  dancers.  Willie  Clarke  was  peeping  through 
his  fingers  at  a  maiden  who  was  more  active 
than  the  others.  Her  skin  was  almost  white  as 
her  nakedness  would  permit  in  that  climate. 

"I  think  that  young  one  there,  that  wiggles 
twice  while  the  rest  seem  to  only  wiggle  once, 
had  ought  to  get  behind  a  tree  or  something." 

"I  don't  see  why,"  answered  young  Ed  Will 
iams,  "She  has  got  as  much  clothes  aboard  as  the 
rest  of  the  gang.  I  wonder  if  they  don't  ever  get 
tired." 

"It  ain't  that,"  said  Will,  "But  she  looks  too 
decent  to  be  going  about  just  clothed  in  her 
beauty.  Just  look  at  the  muscles  on  her,  they  look 
as  hard  as  marble.  Hugh  Clarke  ain't  got  any 
thing  on  that  girl  for  muscle." 

"That  ain't  muscle  you  ninney,"  spoke  up 
his  friend,  "That's  her  chest,  she's  a  girl,  and 
girls  don't  have  muscles,  they  have  chests  to 
breathe  with." 


150  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

"Don't  tell  me  girls  don't  have  muscles.  See 
the  bound  of  her  flesh  like  the  play  of  hamrcers 
on  a  mighty  anvil." 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  dance,  our  friends 
invited  the  savages,  for  such  they  regarded  them, 
to  the  town  hall,  and  prepared  a  feast  for  them. 
It  was  difficult  to  get  head  or  tail  as  to  where 
they  came  from,  as  the  savage  crew  were  poor  at 
sign  language,  and  their  guttural  squeaks  sound 
ed  much  like  the  quacking  of  ducks  and  geese. 
At  last  after  many  signs  and  much  quacking 
our  friends  were  able  to  understand  that  the  party 
lived  on  an  island  about  twenty  miles  distant. 
It  seems  there  were  several  of  these  islands,  and 
it  was  a  custom  of  the  lazy  inhabitants  to  get  into 
their  boats  made  of  feathers,  and  glued  together 
with  a  waterproof  glue,  and  float  in  the  calm 
weather  from  one  island  to  the  other.  The  wind 
had  blown  them  out  of  their  course  on  this  oc 
casion,  hence  their  unexpected  visit  to  Loveland. 

Lottie  Fuquay  was  now  a  tall,  handsome  girl 
of  seventeen.  She  had  every  advantage  in  music 
and  education.  And  was  her  father's  pride  and 
joy.  Paris  with  its  famous  beauties  boasted  that 
the  charming  brilliant  girl  would  be  a  reigning 
belle  on  her  appearance  in  society. 

Be  it  known  to  the  credit  of  the  French,  that 
they  do  not  foist  their  daughters  on  society  as 
early  as  they  do  in  either  England  or  America. 

Baron  Fuquay  had    again    been    appointed 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  151 

French  consul  to  the  United  States,  and  was  to 
leave  with  his  daughter  and  servants  in  a  few 
weeks. 

The  girl  was  all  in  a  flutter  with  excitement, 
and  could  hardly  await  the  day  for  sailing,  for  in 
her  heart  she  believed  that  when  she  reached 
Washington,  she  would  find  a  way  to  reach  Ore 
gon,  and  see  her  old  friends,  and  most  of  all  her 
idol,  Hugh. 

The  journey  across  the  Atlantic  at  that  time 
was  slow  and  tedious,  but  our  distinguished  trav 
elers  met  with  every  courtesy  available  aboard 
ships  in  those  times. 

On  their  arrival  at  Washington,  Baron  Fu- 
quay  secured  one  of  the  handsomest  residences 
in  the  city,  and  set  up  housekeeping  with  his 
charming  daughter  as  the  mistress  of  the  house. 

I  hardly  need  say  that  the  beautiful  French 
girl  became  at  once  the  rage  in  Washington  so 
ciety.  Her  father  assisted  her  in  the  many  social 
functions  they  gave,  and  the  Fuquay  parties  set 
the  standard  for  Washington  society  affairs. 

"Aren't  you  happy,  Lottie  dear?"  inquired 
her  father  of  his  daughter  late  one  night  after  an 
especially  brilliant  affair  at  their  home. 

"Why  yes,"  replied  the  daughter,  "only  I 
pine  for  a  vacation,  a  trip  to  the  west,  a  chance  to 
hunt  and  fish  as  I  did  when  a  child." 

"I  am  afraid  it  will  be  impossible  to  realize 
your  wishes  daughter,  this  season,"  replied  the 


152  THE  STORM'S  CxIFT     • 

Baron,  "as  I  shall  be  especially  busy  for  months 
with  deep  diplomatic  matters  that  involve  both 
France  and  America." 

However  a  party  of  the  Baron's  friends  were 
going  to  Florida  for  the  winter,  and  Lottie  was 
permitted  by  her  father  to  join  them.  Although 
she  confided  to  her  father  she  would  much  rather 
spend  the  time  way  out  in  Oregon  wandering 
about  the  Yachats  rocks,  for  she  firmly  believed 
that  Hugh  and  his  splendid  family  were  still 
there. 

One  day  as  she  was  strolling  along  the  bath 
ing  beach,  she  met  a  gay  party  of  young  people 
who  had  just  left  the  surf  and  were  on  their  way 
to  the  dressing  rooms  that  bordered  the  beach. 
One  of  the  young  ladies  of  the  party,  recognized 
Lottie,  and  introduced  her  to  her  companions. 
When  she  presented  Lottie  to  a  young  man  by  the 
name  of  Roy  Gilbert,  that  young  man  exclaimed : 

"Why,  Miss  Fuquay,  we  have  met  before. 
Don't  you  remember  the  rude  boy  that  tried  to 
kiss  you  when  you  were  a  little  girl  at  that  party 
at  Masons?" 

Lottie  flushed  and  extended  her  hand  and 
said  : 

"I  hope  you  have  improved  in  your  manners 
since  then." 

"I  also  hope  I  have,"  replied  he,  and  it  was 
certain  he  had  improved  in  his  looks  for  he  wore 
a  Lieutenant's  uniform  and  nature  had  been  lav 
ish  with  him  for  in  looks  he  was  a  woman's  ideal 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  153 

of  manly  beauty.  Lottie  turned  back  with  the 
gay  party  and  before  she  left  them  she  had  prom 
ised  to  join  them  the  following  day  and  go  bathing 
with  them. 

The  next  day  found  our  young  folks  garbed 
in  gayest  bathing  suits  frolicking  in  the  water 
and  about  the  beach.  Lottie  the  most  daring  of 
all  had  adventured  far  into  the  surf.  A  sudden 
southern  squall  had  formed  a  great  ugly  roller 
that  combed  over  with  vicious  spill.  The  brave 
girl  was  fighting  bravely  against  the  cruel  waves. 
Lieutenant  Gilbert  seeing  her  plight  rushed  to  her 
rescue. 

It  was  a,  brave  struggle  against  the  angry 
elements.  Lottie  had  sunk  from  view  the  third 
time,  when  he  reached  the  spot  where  she  had 
been. 

The  brave  young  man,  was  diving  under  huge 
breakers,  and  at  last  almost  choked  with  the 
salty  waters.  His  foot  came  in  contact  with  her 
body,  slowly  but  surely  washing  to  sea  with  the 
strong  under  tow.  Again  he  plunged  under  the 
surf  after  her.  This  time  he  succeeded  in  grasp 
ing  her  by  the  hair,  and  brought  the  body  to  the 
raging  surface.  It  was  a  superhuman  struggle 
the  young  man  put  forth  in  his  effort  to  reach  the 
shore.  As  attendants  reached  him  from  the  bath 
house,  he,  with  the  drowning  girl  sank  to  the 
sand  below. 

To  say  it  was  considered  a  miracle  when  with 
out  the  scientific  appliances  of  modern  days  that 


154  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

both  lives  were  saved,  is  putting  it  mildly.  A  wire 
had  reached  Baron  Fuquay  at  Washington,  and 
he  with  a  trained  nurse  were  soon  on  their  way 
to  Florida. 

Roy  Gilbert  in  his  superhuman  struggle  had 
ruptured  a  large  blood  vessel  and  for  days  his  life 
was  dispared  of.  Lottie  had  made  a  rapid  recov 
ery,  and  could  be  found  constantly  at  the  bedside 
of  the  man  who  had  saved  her  life. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  155 


Chapter  XIII 
The  Earthquake. 

"It  seems  foolish,  Lizzie,  to  be  picking  up  this 
dross  they  call  gold,  for  which  men  sell  their  lives, 
and  some  women  their  honor.  But  it  is  so  easily 
gotten,  wife,  I  can't  withstand  the  temptation. 
Evans  and  Williams  must  have  as  much  or  more 
than  we  have,  and  one  of  our  Indian  boys  has  at 
least  sixty  pounds  in  solid  weight  of  virgin  nug 
gets.  If  it  wasn't  for  the  constant  delights  of  this 
place,  I  believe  I  would  be  willing  to  go  back  to 
the  states  and  spend  a  bucket  full  or  two,  just  to 
see  the  silly  money  grabbers  scramble  for  it." 

"Now  Martin,"  replied  his  wife,  "Don't  start 
talking  of  moving  again.  What  would  one  wish 
for  more  than  we  have  here." 

"Oh,  I  ain't  thinking  of  moving  again,  Lizzie. 
I  was  just  wishing  I  could  see  the  eyes  of  the 
money  grabbing  world  bulge  as  I  told  them  the 
story  of  Loveland's  treasures." 

"How  long  will  it  take  Hugh  before  he  has 
his  ship  completed,  Martin?"  inquired  his  wife, 
"I  dread  the  day  the  boy  leaves  us,  for  he  is 
such  a  great,  strong,  noble  hearted  boy,  and  you 
know,  Martin,  it  is  almost  possible  for  a  mother 
to  be  jealous  of  the  woman  her  son  lavishes  his 
love  upon." 


156  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

"Well  woman,  why  don't  you  step  about  a 
bit?  Don't  you  know  the  hull  is  completed  and 
the  masts  stepped,  and  in  less  than  a  week  she  will 
leave  the  ways  for  the  water?" 

"It's  his  happiness  more  than  my  own  that  I 
seek,  but  it  will  be  a  terrible  blow  to  me  to  lose 
one  of  my  children.  You  know  Martin,  dear,  we 
are  all  together  yet,  as  God  placed  us.  He  who 
gave  us  six  splendid  children,  has  in  his  great 
wisdom  and  kindness  allowed  us  to  keep  them  all, 
and  Martin,  Man,  you  look  ten  years  younger  than 
you  did  the  day  we  left  the  states." 

"That's  it  Lizzie.  That's  a  woman  for  you, 
always  fishing  for  bouquets.  But  still  I  can  truth 
fully  say,  dear  wife,  you  are  handsomer  today, 
than  either  girl  you've  got,  although  Phillip  Mo- 
ran  raves  about  the  beauty  of  our  girl  Maude." 

"Well,  Martin,  you  know  Maude  takes  after 
you,  and  what  do  you  suppose  I  married  you  for? 
Do  you  think  it  was  for  the  eight  dollars,  your 
entire  fortune,  or  do  you  think  it  was  because 
you  gave  a  sound  drubbing  to  that  big  brute  Ash 
Hall  who  was  bullying  me  on  our  way  home  from 
singing  school?  No,  Man,  mine,  it  was  because 
you  were  the  kindest,  handsomest  young  man  in 
Delphos,  Ohio." 

"Whew!  Lady  mine.  Come  to  me.  I  have 
a  few  hugs  left  in  stock  that  comes  high.  But  if 
you  are  willing  to  pay  that  sort  of  price,  I  will 
deliver  the  entire  stock  to  your  order." 

That  evening  there  was  a  big  literary  pro- 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  157 

gram  at  the  town  hall.  Everybody  was  present. 
It  was  a  splendid  affair  for  those  primitive  times. 
Mrs.  Clarke's  organ  had  been  taken  to  the  hall, 
and  several  musical  numbers  had  been  rendered 
by  the  island  quartet,  that  would  have  been  well 
received  even  at  this  time.  Willie  Clarke,  the  mis- 
chievious  rogue  of  the  Clarke  family,  was  there 
with  face  and  hands  blackened  with  soot  from  the 
lamps.  He  had  on  his  head  a  curly  grey  wig; 
beneath  his  tattered  coat  stuffed  up  between  his 
shoulders  was  a  ball  of  carpet  rags,  that  gave  him 
the  appearance  of  one  suffering  from  the  most 
severe  case  of  curvature  of  the  spine,  it  has  ever 
been  my  misfortune  to  behold.  His  recitation  was 
left  to  the  last,  and  as  I  have  never  seen  the 
silly  thing  in  print,  nor  heard  it  recited  since 
I  am  going  to  take  up  your  time  by  repeating  it. 

Mrs.  Clarke,  Jr.,  nee  Ida  Moran,  was  the 
chairman  of  the  society.  She  arose  from  the 
chair  with  a  charming  bow,  and  announced  that 
Master  William  Clarke,  a  noted  negro  imperson 
ator,  was  with  them  on  this  occasion,  and  she  now 
begged  him  to  favor  them  with  his  latest  negro 
dialect  specialty  entitled  "Churched."  Willie  arose 
to  his  feet  from  a  secluded  corner  in  the  back  of 
the  room,  and  limped  down  the  aisle  on  a  cane. 
The  hump  on  his  back  was  level  with  the  top  of 
his  head  and  a  more  ridiculous  figure  would  be 
hard  to  conceive. 

He  took  his  place  on  the  platform  and  began 
as  follows: 


158  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

"My  brudders  an'  my  sisters,  I  rises  fo'  to  'splain 

Dis  matter  dat  yous  talkin'  bout 

I  hopes  to  make  it  plain. 

Ise  berry  sorry  dat  the  ting  hab  come  befo  de 

church, 
Fo  wen  I  splains  it  yo  will  see,  dat  it  am  nutin 

murch. 
My  friend  yo,  humbel  speaker,  while  trabblin  har 

belo 
Hab  nebber  cared  to  hord  up  gold  or  silver  fo  to 

sho. 

We's  only  stoppin  har  a  spell,  we  all  hab  got  to  die 
An  so  I  allars  tries  to  lay  my  treasures  up  on  hi. 
Dars  jis  one  ting  dat  pesters  me,  an  dat  am  dis 

yo  see 
De  robins  fed  ol  Lijah,  but  de  critters  won't  feed 

me. 
Day  go  above  dere  buzness,  an  jes  go  swoopin 

roun 
And  nebber  twin  to  look  at  me,  a  waitin  on  de 

grown. 

I  waited  moughty  sartin  like,  my  faith  was  pow 
erful  strong, 
I  reconed  dat  dem  pesky  birds  would  shorely  com 

along. 
But  oh,  my  friendly  hearers,  my  faif  done  catch- 

ed  a  fall. 
Dem    agravatin    fowls    passed    by,    and  nebber 

stopped  a  tall. 
De  meal  an  flour  was  amost  gone;  de  pork  barl 

gettin  low, 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  159 

An  so  one  day  I  eluded  dat  I  better  go, 

To  brudder  Johnsons  tatter  patch,  an  borror  jes 

a  few 
Twas  evenin  fore  I  got  to  start.    I  had  so  much 

to  do. 
It  happend  dat  de  night  was  dark,  but  dat  I 

didn't  mine. 
I  knowed  de  way  to  dat  ar  patch,  twas  easy  nough 

to  fine 
An  den  I  didn't  care  to  meet  dat  Johnson,  fer  I 

knowed 
Dat  he  would  sass  me  bout  de  tatters  what  I 

owed. 
I  got  de  basket  full  at  las,  and  took  em  on  my 

back 

An  jes  was  gwine  to  tote  em  home  wen  some 
thing  went  kerwhack! 
I  thought  it  was  a  cannon,  but  it  jest  turned  out 

to  be 
Dat  Johnsons  ole  hoss  pistol  a  pointin  straight 

at  me. 

I  tried  to  argufy  wid  him,  I  pologised  a  heap 
but  he  said  dat  stealin  taters,  was  as  mean  as 

stealin  sheep. 
Ob  course  I  couldn't  take  dat  ar,  it  had  an  ugly 

soun. 
De  only  ting  fo  me  to  do,  was  jes  to  knock  him 

down. 
Now  my  brudders  an  my  sisters,  de  story  all  am 

tole, 


160  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

Of  course  I  pounded  Johnson,  till  he  yelled  for 

me  to  hole. 
An  now  I  hopes  you  grees  wif  me,  dat  dis  ere  case 

an  sech 
Am  berry  triflin  matters,  for  to  fetch  befo  de 

church." 

A  loud  and  merry  applause  greeted  the  young 
speaker,  and  as  this  concluded  the  program,  the 
party  separated  to  their  homes,  scattered  about 
the  now  lovely  village  of  Eden. 

As  no  one  was  able  to  find  a  book  in  the  pub 
lic  library  or  in  the  private  collections  of  the  citi 
zens,  it  was  the  belief  of  some  that  Willie  Clarke 
was  the  author  of  his  ridiculous  negro  recitation. 

It  was  late  that  night  when  the  Clarke  family 
went  to  bed,  and  about  three  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing  Martin  was  awakened  by  his  wife's  voice, 
as  she  sat  up  in  bed  shaking  him  by  the  shoulder. 

"Why  Martin  Clarke,  how  can  you  sleep 
through  this  awful  noise,  and  terrible  shaking 
that's  going  on.  I  believe  every  dish  and  pot  in 
the  house  is  on  the  floor." 

"Godfrey,  Woman"  exclaimed  Martin  "It's 
an  earthquake,"  and  as  he  sprang  from  his  bed 
another  fit  of  violent  ague  seized  the  island.  An 
undescribable  hissing  from  the  river  on  the  bord 
er  of  the  town  fell  on  their  ears.  It  was  evident 
that  the  small  river  was  running  with  super  heat 
ed  lava. 

"Hurry,  Martin  and  call  up  the  town.  There 
may  be  others  that  sleep  as  sound  as  you,  al 
though  I  doubt  it." 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  161 

As  Martin  opened  the  door,  cries  of  terror 
greeted  his  ears  from  almost  the  entire  popula 
tion  of  the  island.  At  the  rim  of  the  tallest 
mountain  they  had  long  since  discovered  the  cra 
ter  of  an  extinct  volcano,  but  had  given  it  little 
thought,  as  they  believed  its  activity  to  be  a 
thing  of  the  past,  and  it  was  no  doubt  in  their 
minds  now,  that  this  self -same  crater  had  at  some 
remote  time  given  birth  to  the  island  now  in 
habited. 

Great  streams  of  lava  rushing  by  filled  the 
channel  of  the  creek  that  passed  through  the 
town  of  Eden.  A  new  channel  was  being  formed 
along  the  western  line  of  the  town.  At  short  in 
tervals  thunderous  reports  that  rumbled  in  fury 
burst  on  the  ears  of  our  now  terrified  friends. 
It  was  evident  that  some  one  must  take  charge 
of  the  situation.  Clarke  mounted  a  bench  that 
stood  at  his  front  gate  and  begged  the  frightened 
colonists  to  give  him  their  attention.  Their  con 
fidence  in  Clarke  always  gave  him  great  pres 
tige.  Soon  the  nervous  people  were  standing  be 
fore  him  in  composed  attention. 

"Dear  friends,  and  followers,  all  of  you  have 
stood  by  me  in  the  severest  perils  known  to  the 
sea.  To  become  panic  stricken  by  a  volcanic  erup 
tion  especially  one  of  the  present  magnitude  is 
not  strange.  Still  there  is  nothing  to  fear  for  the 
present.  No  doubt  many  of  our  fields  have  been 
devastated  but  our  great  granaries  and  store 
houses  are  still  intact.  Of  course  the  rough  shak- 


162  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

ing  of  the  island  has  broken  many  dishes  and 
stopped  your  clocks  "but  remember  what  this 
glorious  island  has  given  you  in  return  for  this 
frenzied  frolic. 

I  sincerely  believe  the  worst  is  over,  and  you 
who  have  kissed  your  wives  and  children  good 
bye  in  your  terror,  had  ought  to  have  been  scared 
into  kissing  them  before,  for  the  man  among  you 
who  has  lost  money  on  a  legitimate  kiss  will  kind 
ly  hold  up  his  hand." 

It  is  needless  to  say  not  a  hand  went  up. 
And  the  light  manner  in  which  Clarke  treated  the 
calamity  lent  courage  to  his  faithful  subjects. 

The  next  day  the  tremblors  had  subsided, 
but  the  flow  of  lava  increased  if  possible.  Great 
valleys  were  becoming  inundated  with  the  molten 
slag. 

There  is  no  human  remedy  that  can  control 
active  volcanos.  The  flow  of  lava  continued,  but 
after  a  few  days  the  residents  of  Loveland  be 
came  more  accustomed  to  it,  and  went  about  their 
duties  much  as  before. 

The  poor  demented  creature  was  improving 
rapidly,  both  in  mind  and  body.  And  one  day  she 
confided  to  Nell  Evans  that  she  could  recall  a 
great  storm  on  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  that  she  had 
been  separated  from  her  husband  at  that  time, 
and  later  from  her  baby.  No  doubt  both  were 
drowned.  A  great  wave  of  weeping  attacked  her 
and  she  cried  softly,  pitifully,  for  hours.  When 
she  again  became  calm  her  mind  was  much 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  163 

brighter,  and  she  remembered  her  rescue  by  the 
whaler,  and  the  second  wreck  at  Unimak  Pass. 
"Dear  Mrs.  Evans,"  said  she,  "it  were  better  that 
I  had  died,  for  when  the  Greek  Priest  that  came 
to  give  me  burial  found  signs  of  life  in  me,  and 
resuscitated  me,  it  would  have  been  easier  for  me 
had  he  let  me  die,  for  both  husband  and  baby  are 
dead." 

Nell  Evans  thought  it  best  to  tell  her  noth 
ing  for  the  present  or  at  least  until  she  had  ad 
vice  from  Mrs.  Clarke.  So  during  the  day  she 
repeated  the  poor  woman's  strange  story  to  the 
chief  Magistrate  of  the  colony. 

Hugh  and  the  workers  were  putting  the  fin 
ishing  touches  on  the  schooner,  and  a  stauncher, 
more  graceful  craft  had  never  flown  a  flag  up  to 
that  time.  A  great  chest  had  been  constructed 
to  contain  the  gold  that  had  been  found  by  the 
islanders,  as  there  was  absolutely  no  use  for  it 
on  the  island. 

The  rainy  season  was  now  upon  them  again, 
and  the  torrents  of  water  mixed  with  the  molten 
lava,  soon  enveloped  the  island  in  a  thick  cloud 
of  steam.  In  fact  at  times  the  steam  was  so 
dense  it  became  very  oppressive. 

A  peculiar  type  of  illness  had  attacked  sev 
eral  of  the  colony,  and  already  one  of  the  Indian 
girls  had  fallen  asleep  with  the  strange  disease, 
and  had  remained  in  a  sleeping  stupor  until  her 
death. 


164  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 


Chapter  XIII 
Lottie's  Trip  West 

Roy  Gilbert's  recovery  was  slow.  Lottie  had 
not  been  ungrateful  for  the  great  service  he  had 
rendered  her  in  saving  her  life.  Baron  Fuquay 
had  removed  the  young  Lieutenant  to  Washington 
and  had  established  him  in  the  Fuquay  home.  As 
his  health  improved  he  seized  every  opportunity 
to  make  love  to  Lottie,  and  to  his  discredit  seem 
ed  to  try  to  take  advantage  of  the  fact  that  he 
had  saved  her  life. 

Lottie  had  not  given  up  her  determination 
to  visit  the  west,  and  as  soon  as  young  Gilbert  was 
able  to  leave  for  his  own  home,  she  began  pressing 
her  father  for  a  visit  to  Oregon. 

A  professor  from  an  eastern  college  had  ac 
cepted  an  offer  to  come  to  Corvallis  to  teach, 
and  he  with  his  family  were  to  leave  Washington 
the  first  week  in  June. 

It  was  with  the  greatest  reluctance  the  Baron 
gave  permission  to  his  daughter  to  accompany 
them.  It  was  with  a  light  heart  that  Lottie  set 
about  to  make  preparations  for  her  three  thous 
and  mile  journey. 

Young  Gilbert  begged  her  not  to  go,  and 
made  an  impassioned  and  flattering  appeal  for 
her  hand  in  marriage,  but  Lottie  only  said  to  him 
kindly : 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  165 

"Roy,  I  do  not  love  you.  I  know  I  owe  you 
much,  but  surely  you  would  not  want  a  loveless 
bride." 

Lottie's  trunks  only  contained  the  simplest 
and  most  useful  articles  of  wearing  apparel.  She 
had  selected  and  purchased  a  handsome  present 
for  every  one.  A  massive  gold  watch  for  Hugh, 
and  so  on  down  to  lifelike  wax  dolls  for  the  babies, 
for  argued  she,  there  must  be  babies  by  this  time 
born  to  her  friends. 

The  trip  by  rail  in  those  days  consumed 
eight  days,  but  the  strong  light  spirited  girl  bore 
the  journey  well,  and  was  of  great  assistance  to 
the  processor's  wife  who  had  two  small  children. 

Portland  in  the  sixteen  years  intervening 
since  the  Clarkes  had  passed  that  way  had  made 
rapid  progress.  The  O.  R.  &  N.  Railroad  was 
carrvin<r  great  trains  of  tourists,  and  a  day  was 
spent  bv  the  professor  and  his  family  enjoying 
the  oVMs  of  what  is  now  the  rose  city  of 
America. 

Lottie  was  impatient  to  conclude  the  journey, 
and  at  eierht-thirty  the  following  evening,  they 
reached  Corvallis  a  town  that  since  has  become 
fan>o'i£5  for  its  excellent  school  facilities.  As  the 
celebrated  0.  A.  C.  draws  students  from  all  parts 
of  Oeorm,  as  well  as  from  many  other  states. 

Lottie  only  remained  at  Corvallis  long  enough 
to  secure  a  conveyance  that  would  take  her  to 
Yachats.  She  chose  the  route  taken  by  the 
Clarke  party  seventeen  years  ago,  and  it  seemed 


166  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

there  could  have  been  but  little  improvement  in 
the  roads  in  all  those  years,  as  the  greater  por 
tion  of  the  way  was  abominable,  but  was  largely 
excused  by  our  heroine,  owing  to  the  wonderful 
scenery. 

The  driver  made  the  hazardous  trip  to  Wald- 
port  at  the  mouth  of  the  Alsea  in  three  days,  and 
nine  o'clock  next  morning  found  Lottie  stepping 
from  the  wagon  to  the  beach  in  front  of  what  was 
at  one  time  the  Clarke  home. 

Judge  the  poor  girl's  disappointment  on 
reaching  the  house  to  find  it  occupied  "by  strang 
ers.  The  occupants  of  the  house  had  not  even 
known  the  Clarke  people,  but  told  the  girl  the 
Clarke  and  Williams  families  had  left  years  ago, 
after  salvaging  the  ship  that  had  cast  her  ashore, 
lashed  to  the  breast  of  an  unconscious  sailor. 
They  further  stated  that  it  was  the  opinion  of  all 
that  the  Grace  and  Dell  had  again  been  wrecked 
as  no  tidings  had  ever  been  received  of  the  miss 
ing  ship  or  our  voyagers. 

It  was  with  a  sad  and  broken  spirit  our  brave 
girl  informed  her  driver  that  she  would  return  to 
Corvallis  with  him.  She  displayed  little  interest 
in  the  splendid  scenery,  for  the  watch  fires  of  her 
memory  in  their  heightened  glow  overshadowed 
the  delights  nature  had  provided  for  the  disap 
pointed  girl.  As  her  loving  heart  was  chastened 
with  despair.  A  saddened  yearning  had  painted 
its  telltale  script  across  her  lovely  face,  loves 
clinging  tendrils  were  crowding  about  her  heart 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  167 

like  weeds  in  an  unkempt  garden.  It  was  still 
in  the  budding  springtime,  and  nature's  charms 
were  ravishing.  Her  buoyant  spirit  was  most 
broken,  and  the  jewels  of  her  pure  love  were 
afloat  on  a  sea  of  despair.  It  was  so  cruel  to  give 
up  the  future  she  had  longed  for  in  the  garden  of 
dreamy  thought.  They  reached  the  town  of  Cor- 
vallis  in  the  purple  mists  of  the  evening.  The 
clinging  carols  of  a  song  by  a  happy  maiden  in  a 
cottage  near  her  hotel  only  served  to  sadden  her 
bleeding  heart. 

That  night  she  lay  dreaming,  an  angel 
brushed  her  lips  with  a  kiss,  and  a  voice  though 
changed  and  fuller,  seemed  to  say,  "I  am  coming, 
I  am  Hugh."  When  she  awoke  it  was  not  yet 
morning  and  the  moonlight  was  glaring  a  broad 
ened  path  along  the  foot  hills  to  the  westward  of 
the  town. 

Bright  and  early  Monday  morning  our  sad 
dened  Lottie  was  at  the  depot,  and  had  secured 
her  ticket  for  Washington. 

"Lord,"  said  the  railroad  agent  to  an  official 
of  the  company  that  was  checking  up  accounts, 
"Ain't  that  a  beauty.  I  bet  she's  French.  Never 
saw  such  a  neck  on  any  woman  in  my  life  to  com 
pare  with  hers,  I  never  have  been  in  France,  but 
have  heard  so  much  about  the  surpassing  beauty 
of  French  girls,  it  takes  me  sort  of  sure  she's 
French." 

"I  rather  think  she  is  pure  American,"  re 
plied  his  companion,  "Didn't  you  notice  her  accent 


168  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

was  perfect?"  And  as  the  dinky  train  pulled  out 
from  the  station,  it  carried  the  saddest,  most 
beautiful  girl  with  it,  that  has  ever  graced  the 
portals  of  what  is  now  a  splendid  little  city. 

"When  do  you  expect  your  daughter  will  re 
turn?"  inquired  Roy  Gilbert  of  Baron  Fuquay,  a 
few  days  after  her  departure. 

"It's  difficult  to  say,"  answered  the  Baron, 
"She  is  a  great  lover  of  out  door  sports,  and  she 
cherishes  a  great  affection  for  her  foster  parents ; 
and  it  seems  an  especial  tender  feeling  for  the 
boy  that  discovered  her  bound  to  one  of  the  sailors 
that  came  ashore  from  the  wreck." 

Judge  the  surprise  of  Baron  Fuquay  and 
Lieutenant  Gilbert,  three  weeks  later  when  a 
hired  cab  stopped  before  the  door  of  the  Fuquay 
mansion  and  Lottie  alighted.  Of  course  father 
and  friends  were  delighted  at  her  unexpected 
arrival,  but  to  Lieutenant  Gilbert,  it  was  the  hap 
piest  day  of  his  life. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  169 


Chapter  XIV 
"When  Heaven  turns  to  Hell." 

Mrs  Fuquay  had  fully  regained  her  memory ; 
every  detail  of  her  life  stood  out  before  her. 
It  seemed  even  more  vivid  than  it  would,  had  she 
been  able  to  have  realized  her  awful  experience 
earlier. 

She  remembered  when  she  had  regained  con 
sciousness  under  the  kind  skilled  hands  of  the 
Greek  Priest  at  Dutch  Harbor.  She  also  fully 
remembered  her  contract  with  a  couple  of  Es- 
quimo  sailors,  that  had  undertaken  to  land  her  at 
Vancouver  B.  C.,  a  distance  of  fifteen  hundred 
miles,  that  was  to  be  made  in  a  walrus  skin  boat. 
She  also  remembered  the  furious  storm  that  blew 
them  off  their  course  and  carried  the  frail  craft 
many  hundreds  of  miles  south  and  west  of  their 
proposed  destination;  nor  could  she  forget  the 
brave  unselfish  manner  in  which  they  insisted 
that  she  eat  and  drink  while  they  without  a  mur 
mur  of  complaint  starved  to  death,  and  left  her 
sole  occupant  of  the  frail  boat  on  the  heated  sur 
face  of  the  great  southern  sea.  She  now  recalled 
the  story  told  her  by  the  priest  of  the  visit  of  the 
strange  whaler,  and  the  carrying  away  of  her 
precious  baby  by  a  member  of  its  crew.  At  this 
point  her  mind  had  become  a  blank,  and  the  wash- 


170  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

ing  ashore  of  the  large  skin  canoe  on  the  beach 
at  Loveland  was  all  a  blank  to  her,  as  was  every 
other  detail  up  to  this  time. 

Mrs.  Evans  had  told  her  of  the  rescue  of  her 
baby  by  Hugh  Clarke,  and  for  a  time  it  seemed 
the  good  news  would  again  rob  the  poor  woman 
of  her  returned  reason. 

Hugh  had  been  called  in  and  introduced  to 
Mrs.  Fuquay,  and  as  the  grateful  woman  sobbed 
out  her  thanks  in  language  that  sounded  like 
holy  prayer,  our  Hero,  Hugh  found  a  new  incent 
ive  to  hasten  his  quest  for  the  much  loved,  long 
lost,  Lottie. 

"By  Gad,  woman,"  excitedly  exclaimed  Capt. 
Williams  to  his  wife  as  he  entered  the  house  all 
excitement  and  the  perspiration  streaming  down 
his  face,  "By  Gad !  we  have  got  to  get  out  of  this 
blow  hole  of  Hell.  The  lava  has  covered  the  upper 
pasture  and  has  roasted  most  of  the  horses  and 
cattle  alive.  Gol  durn  my  storm  Sty  Sils  if  it 
don't  beat  the  great  horned  spooned  devil." 

"Gus  Williams"  replied  his  wife,  "have  you 
no  shame  to  use  such  language  before  your  wife 
and  children?" 

"Why  you  dear  cool  headed  darling,"  resum 
ed  her  husband,  "I  thought  the  news  I  have  just 
brought  you,  would  drive  you  frantic  with  fear." 

"Well  Gus,  it  seems  we  had  about  as  well  die 
in  a  lake  of  molten  lava  as  to  linger  along  and 
sleep  ourselves  to  death;  all  three  of  the  Indian 
girls  are  dead.  The  last  one  died  an  hour  ago. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  171 

Just  seemed  to  fall  asleep,  and  stay  asleep  until 
they  perish  from  starvation  or  thirst  or  some 
thing.  Nell  Evans  is  just  petered  out.  She  has 
been  up  with  them  day  and  night  for  nearly  three 
weeks,  and  now  the  last  of  the  Siwash  tribe  on 
Loveland  are  dead." 

At  this  Willie  Williams  came  hastily  into  the 
house  inquiring  for  Nell  Evans  saying  that  young 
Moran  had  been  seized  with  the  mysterious  fatal 
sleeping  disease. 

At  times  the  stream  from  the  molten  lava 
rushing  into  the  sea  and  streams  made  it  difficult 
to  breathe.  It  hung  in  the  air  like  a  dense  fog. 
It  carried  with  it  a  strong  sulphur  odor  that  re 
minded  one  of  the  legions  of  Hades.  The  dense 
choking  fumes  at  times  became  most  unbearable. 
One  of  the  Likens  babies  was  dying  from  the 
effects  of  the  poisoned  atmosphere.  It  was  evi 
dent  that  something  must  be  done.  There  were 
several  sick  yet.  It  was  decided  that  if  they 
wished  to  preserve  their  lives  they  must  abandon 
the  island. 

Hugh  had  stored  his  vessel  with  a  full  cargo 
of  preserved  meats,  vegetables  and  fruits.  The 
granaries  of  Loveland  were  still  overflowing  with 
rarest  grains  and  provisions.  The  strong  box  of 
the  ship  contained  over  a  half  million  dollars  in 
treasure,  mostly  gold  and  precious  stones.  It 
would  be  an  easy  task  to  sail  to  the  coast  of 
America  for  the  charts  and  instruments  were  all 
aboard  the  staunch  schooner  Lottie. 


172  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

There  were  three  more  deaths  on  the  island 
within  the  week.  This  left  a  total  habitation  of 
but  fifteen  souls. 

The  lava  was  constantly  encroaching  on  the 
possessions  of  the  colonists  and  at  last  it  was  de 
cided  that  all  should  embark  on  the  trim  ship 
Lottie,  and  return  to  the  country  they  had  so 
joyously  left,  for  had  not  this  one  time  earthly 
paradise  turned  out  to  be  a  steam  heated  Hell  ? 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  173 


Chapter  XV 
At  Sea  Again 

"My  Dear  Hugh,  you  tell  me  that  less  than 
ten  years  ago  to  your  knowledge,  my  baby  Lottie 
was  alive.  Oh !  if  I  can  only  find  her  it  will  repay 
me  a  thousand  times  for  all  I  have  suffered.  God 
is  being  good  to  me  dear  Hugh,  I  mean  Captain 
Clarke,"  for  let  me  say  here  Hugh  Clarke  and  Gus 
Williams  had  changed  jobs,  as  Hugh  was  now 
Master  of  the  vessel  he  had  planned  and  built, 
and  Capt.  Williams  was  her  first  mate.  Hugh  had 
insisted  that  Captain  Williams  take  command  of 
the  ship,  but  Gus  declared  that  Hugh  would  sail 
Master,  or  he  would  remain  on  the  Island. 

There  were  at  least  two  buoyant  hearts 
aboard  the  ship  as  the  anchor  was  weighed  and 
the  sails  set,  and  the  Lottie  placed  her  dainty 
forefoot  in  the  sluggish  brine  outside  the  harbor 
bar,  and  in  the  southern  Pacific  Ocean. 

"My  its  a  relief  to  get  a  breath  of  air  that 
isn't  super  heated  with  steam  and  sterilized  with 
sulphur,"  remarked  Nell  Evans  to  her  husband 
the  first  night  at  sea,  and  out  of  sight  of  land. 

"Nellie  Gal,  I  believe  I'm  glad  to  be  on  my 
way  back  to  the  good  old  U.  S.  A.  Things  were 
pretty  fine  for  a  while  on  the  island  and  I  believe 
that  in  a  short  time  the  action  of  the  volcano  will 
cease  and  things  return  to  normal." 


174  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

"Well,  husband  dear,  Oregon  is  good  enough 
for  me.  There  are  plenty  of  salt  water  delicacies 
around  Yachats  and  Alsea  to  cover  my  require 
ments." 

When  the  elements  want  to  be  nice  and  are 
nice,  there  is  no  place  for  health  and  comfort 
like  a  long  voyage  at  sea.  All  aboard  had  re 
gained  perfect  health.  During  a  calm  for  a  few 
days,  a  school  of  whales  were  lounging  about  the 
ship  and  amused  the  travelers  with  their  playful 
antics  and  ponderous  spouting. 

"Do  you  know,"  remarked  Capt.  Hugh,  "That 
one  of  these  huge  creatures  furnished  the  milk 
that  kept  your  baby  Lottie  from  starving?" 

"You  don't  mean  to  say,"  replied  Mrs.  Fu- 
quay  "that  father  Neptune  maintains  a  whale 
dairy  for  human  babies  at  sea?" 

"Just  so,"  replied  the  Young  Captain"  the 
sailor  De  Somer  of  the  whale  ship  Grace  and  Dell 
had  a  supply  of  whale's  milk  constantly  on  hand 
during  the  entire  cruise  from  the  Alutian  Islands 
until  they  wrecked  on  Yachats  Beach.  And  dear 
Mrs.  Fuquay  there  is  something  more  I  haven't 
told  you  yet.  I  love  your  sweet  daughter  Lottie, 
although  I  have  not  seen  her  since  I  was  a  child, 
still  she  seems  a  part  of  me.  How  I  long  to  find 
her  again  and  make  amends  for  my  selfish  treat 
ment  of  her.  She  had  the  lovliest  flaxen  curls 
that  ever  adorned  a  sweet  child's  head,  but  owing 
to  the  fact  my  mother  kept  me  in  long  curls  and 
short  dresses  when  I  was  small,  and  I  was  so  often 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  175 

taken  for  a  little  girl,  I  learned  to  think  that  I 
despised  long  hair,  curls,  and  especially  girls.  Just 
to  think,  Mrs.  Fuquay  the  day  before  she  left 
for  the  east  to  join  her  father,  I  cut  them  off." 

"To  join  her  father,"  the  woman  screamed. 
"You  do  not  tell  me  that  my  husband  Jules  Fu 
quay  is  alive?" 

"He  was,  dear  lady,"  replied  Captain  Hugh, 
"when  we  sailed  for  Loveland." 

"God  be  praised,"  exclaimed  the  happy  wom 
an,  "Can  it  be  possible  that  I  will  some  day  be  re 
united  with  my  darling  husband  and  sweet  Char 
lotte?" 

"Here  is  proof  of  what  I  did,"  continued  Capt. 
Hugh  as  he  took  from  his  breast  pocket  a  long 
yellow  curl  and  held  it  before  the  mother's  eyes. 

The  happy  woman  first  pressed  it  to  her 
bosom  and  then  kissed  the  clinging  curl  with  the 
sweet  frenzy  of  a  loving  mother's  heart. 

For  days  the  vessel  lay  becalmed  over  a  great 
codfish  bank  and  the  fo'c's'le  peak  had  been  in 
vaded  and  jigger  hooks  brought  forth,  and  in 
about  fifty  fathoms  of  water  they  caught  a  large 
supply  of  this  delicious  fish.  When  fresh  they  can 
be  baked  in  such  manner  as  to  make  them  diffi 
cult  to  distinguish  from  baked  turkey  breast . 

No  one  was  more  anxious  than  Mrs.  Fuquay 
on  board  the  Lottie  to  reach  the  shores  of 
America. 

Hugh  had  repeated  his  great  love  for  Lottie 
and  the  kind  mother  had  said  to  him: 


176  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

"My  dear  Captain,  Hugh,  any  woman  would 
be  proud  to  call  you  son." 

A  fair  sailing  breeze  had  sprung  up  from  the 
southwest  and  the  Lottie  under  full  spread  of 
canvas  was  reeling  off  from  eight  to  ten  knots 
per  hour,  both  day  and  night. 

On  September  17,  1882  the  good  sailing 
schooner  dropped  her  anchor  in  the  harbor  of  the 
Columbia  River  abreast  the  town  of  Astoria. 

At  this  place  they  met  a  man  from  Yachats 
by  the  name  of  Starr.  He  had  arrived  at  Astoria 
with  his  son-in-law,  Victor  Hurt,  with  teams. 
Young  Hurt  was  a  fat  jolly  fellow  and  when  he 
learned  that  the  crew  and  passengers  of  the  Lot 
tie  were  former  residents  of  Yachats,  his  delight 
knew  no  bounds.  He  offered  to  take  a  load  of  the 
women  and  children  down  the  coast  to  Tillamook, 
and  from  there  it  was  proposed  to  secure  a  small 
boat  that  could  be  landed  in  the  Alsea. 

Hugh  on  reaching  Astoria  with  his  ship  had 
received  a  flattering  offer  for  the  boat,  and  a  great 
portion  of  the  cargo  brought  fabulous  prices  so 
in  a  few  days  negotiations  were  closed  and  the 
boat  transferred  to  a  Lumber  Company  composed 
of  Astoria  and  San  Francisco  capitalists  at  a  fig 
ure  around  thirty-five  thousand  dollars.  It  was 
a  slow  tedious  trip  from  Astoria  to  the  Yachats 
and  nearly  two  weeks  were  consumed  before  our 
travelers  reached  their  old  home. 

Conditions  were  greatly  changed  about  the 
mouth  of  the  creek.  The  Indian  population  had 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  177 

t 

been  removed  to  Siletz.  Several  ranches  had  been 
blocked  out  along  the  creek.  The  winter  rains 
were  beginning  to  fall.  Houses  had  to  be  repaired 
and  put  in  shape  for  the  home  comers. 

Paul  Likens  had  decided  to  take  his  family 
east  to  his  old  home.  Mrs.  Fuquay  was  impatient 
for  the  trip  east,  but  Mrs.  Clarke  prevailed  on  her 
to  remain  with  them  and  rest  up  for  a  couple  of 
weeks,  for  then  Hugh  had  promised  to  accompany 
her  to  Washington  City,  not  knowing  whether  Mr. 
Fuquay  was  in  France  or  in  the  United  States, 
nor  did  Mrs.  Fuquay  know  that  her  husband  was 
now  a  Baron,  as  the  death  of  his  father  had  set 
tled  the  title  on  Jules. 


178  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 


Chapter  XVI 
Roy  Gilbert's  Wooing 

Washington  was  at  its  gayest.  The  beauty 
of  the  United  States  together  with  hundreds  of 
the  fairest  foreign  beauties  made  Washington 
D.  C.  the  Mecca  of  feminine  loveliness. 

Lottie  Fuquay  was  admitted  to  be  the  rarest 
type  of  perfect  beauty  in  the  city.  Her  recent 
sorrow,  in  what  she  believed  to  be  the  permanent 
loss  of  her  idol,  Hugh,  had  only  served  to  heighten 
the  splendor  of  her  charming  face. 

The  greatest  ball  of  the  season  was  to  take 
place  Wednesday  evening.  Roy  Gilbert  had  suc 
ceeded  in  gaining  her  consent  to  attend  the  ball 
with  him.  He  had  begged  her  several  times  to 
become  his  wife,  but  her  answer  had  always  been 
the  same,  "I  do  not  love  you." 

Since  her  return  from  the  west,  and  failure 
to  get  tiding  of  the  Clarkes  or  their  ship  she  had 
repeatedly  declared  that  all  must  be  lost,  and  this 
looked  reasonable.  Her  father  had  told  her  that 
a  derelict  ship  had  been  reported  by  Lloyds  at 
about  the  time  of  the  sailing  of  the  Grace  and 
Dell  for  Loveland. 

The  ship  was  waterlogged,  and  abandoned, 
and  as  no  other  vessel  had  been  reported  lost  in 
that  locality  it  was  generally  conceded  that  the 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  179 

wreck  was  all  that  remained  of  the  Grace  and 
Dell.  So  the  heartbroken  girl  had  given  up  all  hope 
of  ever  seeing  her  hero,  Hugh,  again. 

Lottie  and  her  escort,  Roy  Gilbert,  led  the 
grand  march  at  the  society  ball  on  Wednesday 
evening.  A  murmur  of  admiration  ran  through 
the  assembled  throng  as  the  stately  girl  and  the 
splendid  formed  young  officer  took  the  lead. 
It  was  certain  no  other  girl  had  ever  been  in  great 
er  demand  than  this  heart  sick  maiden. 

Gilbert  hung  constantly  at  her  side  and  his 
devotion  seemed  genuine,  although  rumors  were 
afloat  that  he  was  carrying  on  pretty  strong  in  a 
different  strata  of  society.  Later  a  beautiful 
girl,  a  daughter  of  a  rural  senator,  so  it  had  been 
reported,  had  left  Washington  broken  hearted 
and  betrayed  by  this  society  favorite. 

Of  course  these  rumors  had  not  reached  Lot 
tie's  ears ;  still  it  had  come  to  the  knowledge  of  her 
father,  who  regarded  such  things  as  deplorable 
conditions  that  unhappily  existed  in  all  countries. 

Young  Gilbert's  popularity  was  increasing  if 
anything,  and  a  rise  in  rank  to  a  Captaincy  in  the 
regular  army  at  his  age  was  a  splendid  recommen 
dation  for  the  handsome,  if  fickle,  young  officer. 
His  constant  importunities  for  the  hand  of  Lottie 
in  marriage  had  at  last  met  with  a  partial  con 
sent  on  her  part,  but  she  stipulated  that  the  wed 
ding  should  not  take  place  for  a  year,  as  her  fath 
er  and  herself  were  to  leave  early  the  next  month 
on  an  extended  trip  to  foreign  countries;  their 


180  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

destination  was  unknown  even  to  the  Baron,  as 
serious  conditions  existed  between  his  country 
and  several  foreign  governments,  so  it  happened 
that  on  the  day  the  Baron  and  his  daughter  left 
Washington  on  their  foreign  mission,  Captain 
Clarke  and  Mrs  Fuquay,  who  of  course  was  now 
Baroness  Fuquay,  left  Yachats  for  the  city  of 
Washington,  D.  C. 

"You  can  say  all  you  please  about  south  sea 
islands,  Gus,"  said  Martin  Clarke  one  afternoon, 
as  he  rested  his  burden,  a  fat  buck  deer  on  a 
friendly  wind  fallen  log,  "things  one  eats  haven't 
the  splendid  flavor  down  in  those  sun  scorched 
climates  that  they  have  here  in  western  Oregon." 

"I  should  say  not,"  replied  Williams,  who  had 
let  a  still  larger  buck  drop  from  his  shoulder 
to  the  ground,  "you  know,"  continued  Williams, 
"the  shell  fish  in  those  southern  seas  are  poison 
half  the  year,  while  here  the  clams  and  crabs  are 
as  delicious  in  July  as  they  are  in  December." 

"When  will  your  son-in-law,  Likens,  start  east, 
Clarke?  My  wife  says  we  have  more  money  in 
our  buckskin  poke  than  we  will  ever  need  around 
here.  It  seems  she  and  the  children  had  been 
making  a  business  of  picking  up  nuggets  along 
the  banks  of  Hill  Creek  just  west  of  Eden,  and 
swamp  my  main  hatch  if  the  woman  aint  nearly 
a  thousand  ounces  of  rich  yellow  gold  that  will 
run  nineteen  dollars  to  the  ounce.  She  says  she 
wants  to  give  Likens  and  his  family  at  least  half 
of  it,  as  we  can  never  use  the  other  half  here." 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  181 

"Ha  Ha,"  roared  Martin  "guess  the  whole 
bunch  was  playing  the  same  game,  only  yester 
day  morning,  Lizzie  toted  a  sack  off  to  Likens 
house  and  poured  out  a  small  bucket  of  nuggets 
before  Alice,  saying  "Daughter  dear,  I  have 
brought  you  this  gold  that  you  may  take  it  with 
you,  it  is  gold  I  found  on  the  banks  of  Hill  Creek, 
take  it  with  a  mother's  love  as  we  shall  never  need 
it."  Then  our  daughter  Alice  sort  of  turned  up  her 
nose,  and  turning  to  a  chest  of  drawers  in  the 
corner  pulled  out  the  top  drawer,  and  displayed 
two  sacks  if  anything  larger  than  her  mother  had 
brought  over. 

"Alice,"  spoke  up  my  wife,  "how  can  people 
be  so  deceitful?  You  never  let  me  know  you  had 
all  this." 

"Well  as  to  that,  mother  dear,"  replied  the 
daughter,  "I  don't  recall  that  you  ever  mentioned 
your  treasure  before,  and  only  this  morning  Paul 
said  to  me,  we  must  go  over  to  your  Father's 
this  afternoon  and  divide  our  gold  with  him  be 
fore  we  leave." 

The  mother  and  daughter  were  now  in  each 
other's  arms  and  Alice  was  pleading  with  her 
good  kind  mother  to  try  and  induce  Martin  and 
even  Williams  and  his  family  to  return  with  them 
to  the  east  where  they  could  get  more  enjoyment 
out  of  their  wealth. 

When  Lizzie  broached  the  subject  to  Martin, 
he  stuck  his  nose  in  the  air  and  exclaimed, 
"Huh?  get  more  enjoyment?  What  does  that 


182  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

love  stricken  female  call  enjoyment.  Don't  she 
know  that  Ohio  and  Iowa  is  fished  out,  where 
would  you  have  to  live  in  either  of  those  states 
to  be  able  to  kill  an  elk  or  deer  along  your  pasture 
fence  most  any  day?  Besides  there  never  was 
much  but  catfish  and  suckers  any  way,  along  any 
of  the  streams  I've  lived  on." 

The  night  before  Paul  Likens  and  family 
were  to  start  for  the  east  Willie  Clarke  had  laid 
down  on  his  bed  fully  dressed.  It  was  his  desire 
to  give  his  sister  and  family  the  poke  of  gold  he 
had  gathered  and  hoarded  during  his  stay  at 
Eden.  .Several  times  he  had  brought  home  nuggets 
and  given  them  to  his  mother,  so  his  parents  were 
not  aware  that  he  possessed  a  sack  in  secret. 
While  at  Astoria  he  had  laid  in  a  supply  of  am 
munition  and  fishing  tackle  and  the  liberal 
amount  he  had  purchased  had  caused  him  to  listen 
to  many  jests  and  jokes  from  the  older  members 
of  the  party. 

So  on  this  night,  when  all  were  asleep  he  left 
the  house  quietly  and  followed  a  dim  trail  for  a 
short  distance  that  ended  at  an  old  cedar  stump ; 
falling  on  his  knees  he  reached  under  the  stump, 
and  then  drew  forth  a  fairly  fat  poke  that  con 
tained  his  treasure.  He  took  the  sack  under  his 
arm  and  made  his  way  to  the  Likens  home,  a 
good  half  mile  distant.  On  reaching  the  log 
house,  that  was  his  sister's  home,  all  was  dark 
and  he  silently  raised  the  latch  and  entered  the 
house.  A  slant  of  moonlight  fell  directly  on  an 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  183 

open  satchel  that  stood  on  a  table  beside  the  win 
dow.  He  raised  a  portion  of  the  contents  of  the 
packed  case  and  placed  the  poke  of  gold  at  the 
bottom,  covering  it  up  with  the  clothing  and  toilet 
articles  that  filled  the  grip.  He  then  glided  si 
lently  to  the  door,  closed  it  after  him  and  was 
soon  on  his  way  home. 

"It  will  do  them  more  good  than  it  will  me," 
he  mused  to  himself/Tve  got  ammunition  enough 
to  last  me  for  two  years,  and  that  Paul  was  too 
slow  to  pick  up  any  gold  for  himself.  If  I'd  a 
known  we  were  coming  back  so  soon  I  could  have 
gotten  more;  but  that  poke  will  hold  Alice  and 
the  kids  until  I  can  get  aboard  some  south  sea 
bound  ship  and  get  some  more." 

When  Alice  Likens  was  searching  through 
her  satchel  while  passing  through  Cheyenne,  Wy 
oming,  she  ran  across  the  sack  containing  the 
gold,  left  there  by  Willie.  On  one  side  of  the  sack 
W.  C.  had  been  stitched  in  with  blue  thread. 

"Bless  his  darling  heart,"  said  Alice  as  a  tear 
rolled  down  her  cheek.  "We  will  just  send  it  back 
to  him,  or  better  still,  when  we  reach  Paul's 
home,  I  will  deposit  it  in  a  bank  to  his  credit; 
and  I  believe  I  will  just  let  him  think  that  I  have 
kept  it." 

It  was  a  great  experience  to  the  Likens  fam 
ily,  passing  through  the  great  cities  along  the 
way,  and  as  they  reached  Chicago,  Paul  had  ar 
ranged  a  layover  for  a  couple  of  days,  and  the 
stylishly  dressed  young  matron  with  the  neatly 


184  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

attired  husband  that  arrived  at  the  depot  when 
they  resumed  their  journey  from  Chicago  would 
be  hard  to  recognize  as  Paul  Likens,  Esq.  and 
family  from  Loveland  and  later  from  Yachats, 
Oregon. 

Paul  surrounded  his  family  with  every  com 
fort  and  attention,  and  were  it  not  for  the  recent 
parting  with  their  parents  and  brother  and  sisters 
away  out  on  the  shores  of  the  Pacific  Ocean,  Alice 
would  have  been  the  happiest  woman  on  earth. 

Three  more  days  landed  the  travelers  at 
Paul's  old  home.  His  father  had  died  during  his 
absence  but  his  mother  was  still  a  splendid  type 
of  southern  womanhood.  She  greeted  the  family 
as  only  a  southern  matron  can  receive,  and  Alice 
knew  at  once,  that  she  had  only  lost  one  mother 
to  gain  another  just  as  loving  and  kind. 

With  their  fine  clothes  and  abundance  of 
money,  the  new  comers  cut  a  large  swath  from  the 
first  in  the  little  city  that  was  to  be  their  future 
home. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  185 


Chapter  XVII 
Hugh's  Disappointment. 

Baroness  Fuquay  had  never  been  in  or  across 
the  United  States  before,  and  the  journey  was  a 
constant  source  of  happy  surprises. 

Hugh  showed  the  distinguished  lady  every 
courtesy ;  and  her  fame  had  reached  ahead  of  her. 
Many  newspaper  reporters  learning  of  her  won 
derful  adventures  had  begged  an  Interview,  and 
the  papers  teemed  with  thrilling  stories  of  the 
perils  and  hardships  undergone  by  the  Baroness. 

On  reaching  Washington,  a  great  crowd  had 
assembled  at  the  depot  to  welcome  her,  and  it  was 
at  that  time  she  was  informed  of  the  departure 
of  Baron  Fuquay  and  his  charming  daughter  on 
their  mysterious  mission. 

The  news  almost  prostrated  the  over  expect 
ant  woman,  who  on  the  last  lap  of  the  trip  had 
become  so  impatient  she  was  almost  hysterical, 
and  Hugh's  depression  was  not  much  less;  as  he 
had  fully  expected  to  meet  Lottie  in  Washington, 
or  at  least  be  able  to  learn  definitely  where  she 
could  be  found. 

Hugh  looked  up  a  bank  and  made  a  deposit  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  certified 
checks,  and  after  locating  Baroness  Fuquay,  has 
tened  to  the  War  Department  to  try  and  get  tid- 


186  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

ings  of  his  lost  love.  You  had  as  well  try  to  pry 
off  the  hinges  of  the  steel  treasure  vaults  at 
Washington  as  to  undertake  to  pry  open  the 
mouths  of  the  attaches  of  the  government;  and 
the  poor  lad  left  the  offices  no  wiser  than  he  came. 
His  next  visit  was  to  the  shipping  centers  for  the 
purpose  of  securing  passages  to  Europe.  He  had 
no  choice  as  to  what  the  destination  of  the  ship 
might  be  for  he  stood  as  good  chance  of  meeting 
the  Fuquays  in  one  port  as  another.  At  last  he 
found  a  steamer  would  leave  New  York  for  Liver 
pool  in  about  six  days.  He  secured  passage  for 
himself;  for  when  on  returning  to  Baroness  Fu- 
quay's  lodgings,  he  found  that  the  Baroness  had 
been  sought  out  by  some  of  the  Baron's  friends 
and  taken  to  the  Fuquay  mansion  that  was  in  per 
fect  order,  and  peopled  by  the  servants  of  the  dis 
tinguished  diplomat.  She  was  duly  installed  as  mis 
tress  of  the  home.  Still  the  shadows  of  the  grim 
past  crouched  heavily  on  her  shoulders.  She  refus 
ed  all  attempts  to  induce  her  to  come  out  in  soci 
ety,  for  said  she,  "until  I  have  seen  my  darling 
husband  and  daughter  it  is  almost  impossible  for 
me  to  believe  it  is  other  than  a  joyous  dream." 

Hugh  Clarke's  fame  had  spread  abroad  at 
Washington,  and  the  dashing  young  sea  Captain 
was  in  great  demand  in  the  city's  most  exclusive 
society.  A  reigning  belle  from  one  of  the  south 
ern  states  and  a  daughter  of  a  United  States 
Senator  had  shown  such  a  pronounced  preference 
for  him,  that  it  was  only  by  tact  he  had  avoided 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  187 

a  duel.  For  said  Captain  Hugh  to  the  disgruntled 
young  swain,  "it  isn't  that  I  am  afraid  to  fight 
you,  but  because  I  don't  want  to  kill  you,  and  rob 
the  young  ladies  of  your  worthless  love,  that  I  for 
bear  the  pleasure  of  giving  you  your  imaginary 
satisfaction." 

Fifty  years  ago  France  and  Prussia  were  in 
serious  trouble.  Baron  Fuquay  had  been  appoint 
ed  on  the  mission  covering  the  diplomatic  rela 
tions  between  these  two  countries.  Hence  Prussia 
was  their  first  destination. 

Lottie  ever  a  true  sailor  was  enjoying  the 
trip,  and  was  much  made  over  by  officers  and 
passengers  of  the  ship.  Her  greatest  worry  was 
to  see  her  father's  mission  completed;  and  re 
turn  to  the  United  States,  her  adopted  home. 

The  thought  of  ever  being  the  wife  of  Roy 
Gilbert  was  becoming  more  repugnant  to  her 
daily,  but  she  had  practically  given  her  word, 
and  the  word  of  a  Fuquay  had  never  been  violated. 

While  her  father  attended  the  conference  of 
state  in  the  Prussian  Capital,  Lottie  was  admired 
and  feted  in  the  most  exclusive  circles  of  the 
country. 

Hugh  on  landing  in  Liverpool  could  get  no 
tidings  of  his  sweetheart  and  her  father,  so  after 
a  couple  of  days  vain  search,  he  crossed  the  chan 
nel  and  headed  for  France.  On  his  arrival  at 
Paris  his  earnest  inquiries  met  with  the  usual 
disappointment,  so  after  visiting  several  other 
governments,  he  decided  to  return  to  the  United 


188  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

States  and  await  the  Baron's  return. 

Mrs.  Fuquay  had  fully  regained  her  health 
and  much  of  her  real  French  beauty  had  returned. 
She  was  yet  a  young  woman,  as  she  had  married 
young,  and  a  healthy  woman  at  thirty-six  has  only 
just  acquired  her  full  womanly  lovliness. 

A  mulatto  maid  was  singing  a  war  ballad, 
extremely  popular  fifty  years  ago.  The  girl  had 
a  voice  only  given  to  negro  women  for  tone,  and  I 
can't  refrain  from  setting  the  words  down  here 
as  few  of  my  younger  readers  have  ever  heard  it, 
and  but  for  this  book  never  would.  Still  I  wish 
you  could  have  heard  that  colored  nightingale  in 
her  sweet  crooning  voice. 

"As  they  marched  through  the  town 

With  the  banners  so  gay 

I  ran  to  the  window 

To  hear  the  band  play. 

I  peeped  through  the  blinds 
Very  cautiously  then 
Lest  the  neighbors  would  say 
I  was  looking  at  the  men. 

Oh  I  heard  the  drums  beat 
And  the  music  so  sweet 
But  my  heart  at  the  time 
Caught  a  much  greater  treat. 

The  men  were  the  finest 
That  ever  I  did  see 
And  the  Captain  with  his  whiskers 
Took  a  sly  glance  at  me. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  189 

I  remember  with  superabundant  delight 
How  we  met  on  the  street 
And  we  danced  all  the  night. 

But  he's  gone  from  the  town 
And  I'll  ne'er  see  him  no  more 
But  I  think  of  him  oft 
And  the  whiskers  he  wore. 

"Now  yo  Rose  Sanders,  yo  jes  close  up  yo 
yaller  lip,  an  finish  dat  dustin'.  Yo  mus  tink  Mrs. 
Fuquay  aint  got  no  nerves,  de  way  yo  all  goes 
on  wif  you  noise.  I  nebber  saw  a  yaller  pusson 
dat  could  sing  no  way." 

"Why  Aunt  Dinah.  I  nebber  thought  I  was 
disturbin'  my  mistress.  Of  course  I  will  keep 
quiet  after  dis  when  I  am  working  about  her 
apartments  but  I'm  so  happy  Aunt  Dinah,  cos 
Captain  Gilbert  jes  tole  me  dat  my  sweetheart 
Mose  Adkins  who  was  his  body  servant,  has  just 
been  giben  his  discharge  from  the  army,  an  we's 
goin  to  git  married  on  Christmas." 

"Rose,  is  dat  no  count  Captain  Gilbert  round 
dis  house?  Yo  silly  gals  think  kase  a  man  looks 
purty,  dats  all  dey  is  to  it.  But  I  tell  yo  dat  Cap 
tain  Gilbert  aint  no  man  fer  my  lil  honey  Lottie." 

Baroness  Fuquay  could  not  help  but  hear  this 
conversation,  and  with  a  mother's  love  and  devo 
tion  she  availed  herself  of  every  means  to  learn 
his  standing  although  much  of  her  information 
came  through  the  servants,  it  was  in  no  way  flat 
tering  to  the  young  man. 


190  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

THe  wreck  of  the  Oriental  Empress  is  well 
remembered  by  many  of  my  older  readers.  And 
it  is  my  duty,  painful  though  it  is  to  record  here 
that  Baron  Fuquay  and  his  daughter  Lottie  were 
passengers  on  the  ill-fated  ship. 

The  loss  of  life  was  almost  total,  the  life 
boat  that  carried  the  Baron  and  his  daughter  was 
swamped  after  three  days  struggle  with  the  ele 
ments,  and  Baron  Fuquay  who  was  not  a  robust 
man  at  best  succumbed  to  the  cold  and  exposure 
on  the  fourth  day.  Lottie  and  a  young  Irish  sailor 
were  the  only  survivors  of  the  life  boat  that  wash 
ed  ashore  on  a  barren  rocky  coast  in  a  remote 
corner  of  Ireland. 

The  girl  was  picked  up  by  the  fisher  folk  of 
the  coast,  and  for  weeks  she  was  unconscious. 
She  had  happily  fallen  into  kind  hands,  and  even 
after  her  physical  health  was  restored  she  had 
no  recollections  of  who  she  was  or  where  she  came 
from.  She  would  sit  for  hours  on  a  rocky  headline 
gazing  out  to  sea,  trying  to  refresh  her  lapsed 
memory. 

Roy  Gilbert  had  been  sent  to  Ireland  on  a 
trifling  mission  for  the  United  States,  and  while 
in  Ireland,  hearing  of  the  splendid  fishing,  on 
some  parts  of  the  Irish  coast  had  decided  to  spend 
a  couple  of  days  at  the  exact  point  where  Lottie 
was  living  with  the  fisher  family. 

One  day ;  in  fact  the  day  Gilbert  was  leaving 
for  Dublin,  he  spied  the  form  of  a  maiden  seated 
on  the  rocks  in  what  seemed  to  him  a  very  danger- 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  191 

ous  position.  He  approached  the  girl  cautiously; 
and  judge  his  surprise,  to  find  her  to  be  his  affi 
anced  bride,  Lottie  Fuquay.  Seizing  her  by  the 
arm  he  dragged  her  from  the  perilous  position 
she  was  in,  and  almost  shouted,  "Why  Darling 
Lottie,  we  all  believed  you  dead." 

"The  news  reached  Washington,  two  months 
ago  that  all  on  board  the  Empress  were  lost,  even 
now  your  mother,  and  that  young  south  sea 
islander  are  out  on  the  seas  trying  to  get  some 
tidings  of  you  and  your  father." 

To  all  this  Lottie  only  gave  the  new  comer  a 
blank  stare,  and  for  a  time  Roy  did  not  realize 
the  situation;  at  last  however,  it  dawned  on  him 
that  her  reason  was  impaired  by  the  hardships 
she  had  undergone,  and  it  was  with  considerable 
difficulty  he  got  her  to  accompany  him  to  the 
fisherman's  house  where  she  had  been  staying. 
Roy  told  her  story  to  the  fisher  folk ;  adding  that 
she  was  his  promised  bride.  To  all  this  Lottie, 
did  not  give  the  slightest  heed.  Her  usual  inquiry 
was  if  her  father  had  returned  from  the  Embassy, 
and  when  they  were  to  start  for  America.  She 
often  spoke  of  Hugh,  and  prayed  that  she  might 
some  day  find  him. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  these  remarks  ) 
Lottie  were  bitter  as  gall  to  the  young  Captain, 
and  he  decided  if  possible  to  marry  the  girl  while 
in  Ireland,  and  while  she  was  in  her  present  men 
tal  condition,  and  I  wish  to  state  here,  that  had  it 
not  been  for  the  peculiar  and  stringent  marriage 


192  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

laws  in  some  parts  of  Ireland,  the  heartless  young 
army  Captain  would  have  carried  out  this  most 
unfair  plan. 

When  the  news  reached  Washington  of  the 
loss  of  the  Oriental  Empress  and  her  entire  list 
of  passengers,  Hugh  had  only  arrived  at  that  city, 
and  it  was  delegated  to  him  to  break  the  terrible 
news  to  Baroness  Fuquay  of  the  second  loss  of  her 
husband  and  daughter.  Although  the  young 
man  was  tender  and  discreet,  when  the  full  facts 
dawned  on  the  Baroness  it  was  too  much  for 
human  nature  to  stand,  and  after  a  hysterical 
shriek,  she  called  for  her  baby  Lottie,  nor  could 
she  be  quieted  until  the  servants  assisted  by 
Hugh,  constructed  her  a  rag  baby  much  the  same 
as  she  had  carried  all  those  weary  miles  in  Love- 
land. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  193 


Chapter  XVIII 
The  Duel 

Hugh  Clarke  remained  in  Washington  until 
Baroness  Fuquay  was  much  recovered  in  mind, 
and  reason.  However  this  last  great  shock  was  too 
much  for  the  Baroness  to  ever  fully  overcome. 
She  had  learned  to  love  Hugh  with  a  mother's 
deep  affection;  and  when  he  confided  to  her  his 
intentions  of  again  crossing  the  Atlantic  in 
search  of  news  of  Lottie,  she  begged  him  to  re 
main  with  her  in  Washington,  for  said  she,  you 
are  all  I  have  in  the  world  now. 

Hugh  explained  that  he  had  not  given  up  all 
hope  of  some  day  finding  Lottie,  for  as  he  said  he 
did  not  believe  that  God  would  have  given  him  the 
great  privilege  of  saving  her  from  the  storm,  and 
then  take  her  away  again  by  the  same  means, 
and  he  argued  that  in  his  belief  there  would  be 
survivors  heard  from  some  time;  and  as  the  ship 
was  wrecked  off  the  coast  of  Ireland,  his  next 
voyage  would  be  to  those  shores,  so  accordingly 
after  much  pleading  he  got  the  Baroness'  consent 
to  take  the  voyage,  and  left  her  much  improved 
in  spirits  by  his  cheerful  view  of  the  matter, 
always  insisting  that  he  would  bring  her  good 
news  of  her  loved  ones. 

It  was  late  in  the  season  when  he  made  the 


194  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

trip  and  the  voyage  was  a  rough  one,  but  after 
two  weeks  of  blows  and  rains,  he  landed  safely  in 
Liverpool,  England,  and  hastened  to  Ireland.  Here 
he  settled  down  to  a  systematic  search  for  tidings 
of  the  lost  ship.  For  days  and  weeks,  nothing  was 
learned  to  give  him  encouragement.  He  was  be 
coming  most  disheartened,  when  one  evening  he 
entered  a  public  house  for  rest  and  refreshment. 
And  while  seated  at  a  table  enjoying  a  glass  of 
wine  and  a  biscuit,  he  overheard  a  half  intoxicated 
sailor  recounting  to  some  friends,  his  recent  ex 
perience  in  a  shipwreck.  The  sailor  had  arisen  to 
leave  the  place  when  Hugh  called  him  back  and 
asked  him  to  give  a  further  account  of  the  wreck. 

He  emphasized  his  request  by  ordering  a  bot 
tle  of  costly  wine  so  the  sailor  settled  himself  at 
Hugh's  table  with  a  low  bow,  and  a  friendly 
smile. 

"Well  yer  honor,"  spoke  the  Sailor,  "I  sup 
pose  ye  are  one  of  thim  writer  fellers,  that's  look- 
in*  fur  sea  yarns,  but  what  I  am  tellin'  ye  in  the 
gospel  truth.  The  gal  and  I  are  the  only  persons 
saved  from  the  Empress,  and  as  the  gal  has  gone 
batty  I'm  the  only  one  as  know  the  particulars. 
I  aint  been  to  no  shipping  point  yit  to  give  in  the 
affair,  nor  aint  drawn  my  money  for  the  trip 
thats  why  I  am  sorter  spongin  around." 

Hugh  handed  the  sailor  a  five  pound  note 
and  insisted  that  he  go  on  with  the  particulars  at 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  195 

once.  The  sight  of  the  money  filled  the  sailor  with 
still  deeper  respect  for  the  well  dressed  young 
man  and  the  sailor  resumed: 

"Your  Lordship." 

"Excuse  me,  shipmate,  I  am  not  your  Lord 
ship,  but  Captain  Hugh  Clarke  of  the  "Lottie," 
a  sailing  schooner  of  the  Pacific." 

"Wall  I  declair,  them  names  sound  familiar," 
spoke  the  sailor,  thet  gal's  name  was  Lottie,  and 
say  Captain  yer  first  name  is  the  same  as  she 
kept  callin'  over  so  much  when  she  was  ravin' 
after  we  run  out  of  food  and  water." 

The  story  told  by  the  sailor  was  much  the 
same  as  has  been  told  for  years.  Their  great 
hope  of  an  early  rescue;  their  subsequent  disap 
pointment,  the  death  of  two  older  women  that 
were  in  the  life  boat ;  the  suffering  and  raving  of 
Baron  Fuquay,  how  at  last  he  believed  Lottie  to 
be  his  long  lost  wife;  how  he  died  in  the  girl's 
arms  begging  her  to  remain  faithful  to  his  mem 
ory  ;  and  telling  her  of  great  diamond  interests  he 
held  in  South  Africa.  "For  six  days,"  continued 
the  sailor,  "we  kept  the  corpse  in  the  boat.  At  last 
I  begged  the  girl  to  allow  me  to  cast  the  body  in 
the  sea,  for  although  the  sea  was  rough  and  the 
weather  cold,  the  dead  body  was  becoming  offens 
ive.  This  the  girl  would  not  permit,  and  it  was 
not  until  the  girl  had  lost  her  reason  that  I  found 
it  possible  to  consign  the  body  to  the  sea." 

"Can  you  take  me  to  the  fishing  hamlet  where 


196  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

you  left  the  girl?"  inquired  Hugh  in  a  manner  so 
calm  that  the  sailor  never  dreamed  of  the  close 
relationship  that  existed  between  them. 

"Why  Captain,"  replied  the  sailor,  "It  is 
barely  thirty  miles  from  here,  and  you  can  find  it 
as  well  as  though  I  were  along."  He  gave  Hugh 
the  name  of  the  fisher  folk  as  well  as  the  name  and 
location  of  the  village.  Hugh  gave  the  sailor  a 
twenty  pound  note,  and  with  a  hearty  hand  shake 
bade  the  wrecked  mariner  farewell. 

Hugh  lost  no  time  in  securing  a  two  horse 
rig  and  started  for  the  spot  that  would  at  last 
end  his  search  for  his  lost  love.  He  had  realized 
from  the  start  that  the  sailor  was  describing  none 
other  than  Lottie  and  her  father.  Of  course  he 
was  greatly  distressed  to  learn  that  Lottie  had 
temporarily  lost  her  reason,  but  was  sure  with 
proper  nursing  it  would  return,  owing  to  her 
fresh  young  health  and  vigor. 

The  journey  at  that  time  through  western 
Ireland  was  slow  and  rough,  and  it  required  two 
days  to  reach  the  fishing  hamlet.  Judge  our  he- 
roe's  disappointment  on  learning  that  the  girl 
had  been  removed  to  some  place  unknown  to  the 
fisherman's  good  wife,  and  by  a  young  man,  who 
on  being  described,  Hugh  at  once  judged  to  be 
Roy  Gilbert.  Hugh  had  been  given  a  perfect  de 
scription  of  Gilbert  and  also  knew  that  young  Gil. 
bert  was  the  lad  that  had  called  him  a  simp  to 
Lottie  when  they  were  all  children. 

After  learning  all  the  particulars  possible, 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  197 

Captain  Hugh  returned  to  the  city  with  the  hired 
conveyance  and  there  paid  and  dismissed  the  rig. 
Two  days  later  while  glancing  over  a  morning 
paper  the  following  paragraph  met  his  eyes. 
"American  Army  Officer  sails  on  Great 
Eastern  accompanied  by  Miss  Cnarlotte 
Fuquay,  daughter  of  the  late  Baron  Fu- 
quay,  lost  in  the  wreck  of  the  Oriental 
Empress." 

Here  followed  a  lengthy  account  of  the 
wrecking  of  the  Empress,  and  the  article  went  on 
to  state  that  Miss  Fuquay  had  not  fully  recovered 
in  health  or  reason  owing  to  the  terrible  hard 
ships  she  has  undergone,  before  being  cast  ashore 
off  the  Irish  coast. 

Hugh  grabbed  his  hat  and  coat  and  flew  for 
the  shipping  offices,  only  to  learn  that  he  could  not 
make  a  reservation  for  New  York  for  six  days. 
Wireless,  was  unknown  in  those  days,  and  it  was 
an  almost  frantically  impatient  young  man  that 
paced  the  corridors  of  the  city's  most  popular 
hotel. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  Great  Eastern  at  New 
York,  Roy  Gilbert  wired  Baroness  Fuquay  that  he 
had  found  her  daughter  and  would  arrive  the  next 
day.  Lottie's  reason  was  fast  returning,  and  she 
was  now  showing  a  disposition  to  shun  young  Gil 
bert,  who  was  assuming  considerable  proprietor 
ship  over  the  girl.  Of  course  as  yet  she  did  not 
know  that  Hugh  was  still  alive;  for  the  selfish 
Roy  Gilbert  had  withheld  that  information. 


198  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

The  meeting  between  mother  and  daughter 
was  too  sacred  and  touching  to  give  even  an  at 
tempt  at  description  here,  although  much  of  the 
poor  lady's  loss  of  husband  was  made  up  by  the 
return  of  her  daughter. 

After  embracing  they  sat  down  gazing  in 
each  others  faces,  silently  weeping,  then  without 
a  word,  they  would  arise  and  embrace  each  other 
again,  their  joy  bordered  on  hysterics,  and  I  re 
peat  I  will  not  try  further  to  describe  the  touching 
scene. 

Young  Gilbert  fairly  haunted  the  Fuquay 
home.  Lottie  had  told  him  that  she  could  never 
become  his  wife,  and  explained  that  recent  events 
had  made  it  impossible  for  her  to  entertain  the 
thought. 

"I  know  your  reason  for  this  change  of  atti 
tude,"  Roy  flashed  angrily,  "it's  that  simp  that 
was  so  enamored  of  your  curls,  and  so  enthusi 
astic  over  the  fact  that  you  were  a  girl,  when  he 
thought  you  were  only  a  boy." 

"Captain  Gilbert,"  replied  Lottie,  "I  will  not 
be  surprised  if  Captain  Clarke  demands  an  apolo 
gy  from  you  for  calling  him  a  simp  when  he  was  a 
child  I  wrote  him  the  facts  at  the  time  and  I  still 
have  his  reply  saying  he  would  call  on  you  when 
he  visited  Washington,  and  do  something  to  you. 
I  think  he  said  he  would  slap  your  face." 

"That  sounds  like  the  ruffian  he  is,"  retorted 
Gilbert,  "I  wish  you  to  remember  that  I  am  a 
gentleman  and  an  army  officer." 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  199 

"Captain  Gilbert,"  replied  Lottie,  '"I  am  not 
ungrateful  for  the  many  services  you  have  ren 
dered  me.  Still  you  must  have  heard  how  Hugh 
Clarke  almost  a  baby  at  the  time  rescued  me  from 
the  sea.  How  before  I  was  five  years  old  I  learned 
to  idolize  him  as  my  hero,  so  if  when  he  reaches 
Washington  I  learn  that  he  bears  for  me  one- 
thousandth  the  love  I  cherish  for  him,  all  the 
riches  of  the  earth  and  all  other  men's  love  could 
never  change  my  feelings  toward  him." 

"You  are  still  unbalanced  in  mind,"  cruelly 
retorted,  Gilbert.  "I  had  your  promise  and  I  will 
never  give  you  up  to  that  ignorant  limb  of  white 
trash." 

"Pardon  me,"  retorted  Lottie,  "I  do  not  care 
to  discuss  the  subject  with  you  further."  With 
this  she  left  the  room. 

Young  Gilbert  sought  his  hat  muttering 
threats  on  Captain  Clarke. 

"I  will  get  him — I  will  treat  him  in  such  a 
manner  that  he  will  be  compelled  to  demand  satis 
faction,  that  will  give  me  the  choice  of  weapons. 
I  doubt  if  the  fool  sailor  ever  fired  a  pistol  in  his 
life,  and  I  am  regarded  as  the  best  pistol  shot  in 
the  army.  I  will  waive  the  ten  pace  regulation 
and  give  him  twenty  paces,  I  can  hit  a  copper 
penny  with  either  of  my  pistols  at  twenty  paces, 
nine  times  out  of  ten,"  and  as  he  walked  along 
his  upper  lip  curled  in  a  vicious  smile,  he  contin 
ued  "I  will  cure  her  baby  infatuation  with  a  half 
ounce  of  cold  lead." 


200  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

Captain  Hugh's  voyage  across  the  Atlantic 
was  the  shortest  most  uneventful  he  had  yet 
made,  and  our  hero  arrived  in  Washington  just 
ten  days  after  Gilbert's  and  Lottie's  arrival. 

As  he  hadn't  sent  the  Baroness  a  wire,  his 
arrival  was  an  utter  surprise  to  all. 

On  being  ushered  into  the  drawing  room  of 
the  Fuquay  home,  he  came  face  to  face  with  a  tall 
slender  young  lady.  He  halted  in  his  tracks  em 
barrassed.  When  Lottie  rushed  up'to  him  and 
threw  both  arms  about  his  neck. 

"Oh  Hugh,"  she  exclaimed,  "I  know  it  must 
be  Hugh." 

"My  darling  Lottie,"  was  all  the  agitated 
young  man  could  say.  His  next  words  were  "God ! 
was  there  ever  such  beautiful  hair." 

"Your  ideas  regarding  hair  seems  somewhat 
changed"  replied  the  girl  naively,  then  remember 
ed  herself,  she  coyly  slipped  from  his  embrace, 
and  said.  "I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Clarke  or 
rather  Captain  Clarke,  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you 
again  made  me  quite  forget  myself,"  and  poor 
Hugh  with  little  or  no  experience  in  love  affairs 
regarded  this  as  indifference  on  the  part  of  his 
long  sought  sweetheart.  He  stood  before  her,  his 
mind  reverting  to  well  remembered  days,  and  the 
sobbing  sweetness  of  the  past  rose  before  him. 
Again  she  faced  him  and  a  light  more  tender 
shone  in  her  eyes. 

"You  must  make  your  home  with  us,"  she 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  201 

said,  "as  you  did  before  I  came  back.  Come  Cap 
tain,  mother  will  be  anxious  to  welcome  you 
home." 

Mrs.  Fuquay  did  not  try  to  conceal  her  de 
light  at  the  return  of  Hugh,  and  with  a  mother's 
kiss  sobbed  out  her  sorrow  and  joy. 

A  servant  announced  Captain  Gilbert,  and  it 
was  with  a  sinking  heart  that  Lottie  ordered  he 
be  ushered  into  their  presence.  Lottie  left  the 
task  of  introducing  the  gentleman  to  her  mother. 
Hugh  held  out  his  hand  in  friendly  greeting  to 
the  young  army  Captain  who  showed  a  half 
sneering  reluctance  in  accepting  it.  The  conver 
sation  was  strained  and  unnatural,  and  Hugh  soon 
found  an  excuse  to  withdraw  on  a  matter  of  busi 
ness. 

Hardly  had  the  door  closed  behind  him,  when 
Captain  Gilbert  began  pressing  his  claims  for 
Lottie's  hand  in  marriage,  reminding  the  mother 
that  he  had  saved  her  from  drowning,  and  also 
from  a  worse  fate,  when  as  he  claimed  he  had 
sailed  to  Ireland  for  the  sole  purpose  of  finding 
her,  and  discovered  her  among  coarse  fishermen 
and  in  a  demented  state. 

Baroness  Fnquay  begged  him  to  give  them 
time  to  at  le,ast  delay  his  suit  until  the  joy  of  her 
return  was  partly  realized;  for  continued  the 
Baroness,  my  daughter's  wishes  and  happiness 
shall  be  mine  and  the  man  of  her  choice  I  will 
love  as  a  son.  So  they  parted ;  the  Captain  vow 
ing  vengeance  on  his  rival. 


202  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

Horse  racing  those  days  was  a  national  sport. 
The  high  and  low  all  met  on  more  equal 
terms  on  the  race  track  than  at  any  other  time 
and  place  in  the  capitol.  Hugh  had  been  attracted 
to  the  race  course  through  a  friend  from  Oregon, 
that  had  brought  to  the  races  an  unknown  mare 
that  bespoke  the  greatest  possibilities.  It  was 
while  talking  with  his  friend  that  he  heard  a 
woman  scream  in  a  grove  of  timber  adjoining  the 
race  track.  He  hastened  in  the  direction  from 
whence  came  the  scream,  and  found  Roy  Gilbert 
in  a  fit  of  frenzy  choking  a  young  lady ;  who  was 
near  fainting  from  his  brutal  treatment.  Hugh 
lost  no  time  on  words,  but  with  a  well  directed 
blow  to  the  villian's  chin,  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  his  rival  wallowing  in  the  dust  while  Hugh 
gave  his  attention  to  the  half  fainting  hysterical 
young  woman.  She  was  sobbing  out  her  troubles 
and  Hugh  could  not  help  but  hear  her  pitiful  tale. 
Gilbert  had  just  told  her  that  he  was  about  to  bo 
married  to  a  young  French  lady  of  noble  birth 
and  had  offered  her  money  as  a  balm  for  the  mis 
erable  position  he  had  placed  her  in.  This  form 
ally  proud  girl,  was  begging  the  boon  of  becoming 
the  brute's  wife,  for  as  she  screamed  "it  is  not  for 
myself  I  ask  this  favor,  but  for  the  future  of  my 
unborn  babe." 

Gilbert  slowly  arose  to  his  feet  and  with  a 
glance  filled  with  hate  said  to  Hugh : 

"My  second  will  call  on  you  this  evening." 

Hugh  took  the  young  lady  direct  to  Baroness 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  203 

Fuquay,  who  received  her  kindly,  after  hearing 
her  pitiful  story  of  love  and  shame,  placed  her  in 
a  beautiful  room.  It  was  found  the  rough  treat 
ment  of  Gilbert  was  too  much  for  the  delicate  girl, 
and  in  less  than  a  week,  the  hearse  that  drove 
up  to  the  Fuquay  mansion  bore  away  the  body  of 
the  poor  girl  and  her  new  born  babe. 

The  evening  of  the  races,  a  tall  military 
young  man  called  on  Hugh  at  his  club  and  pre 
sented  him  with  Gilbert's  card  and  a  challenge  to 
fight  a  duel  at  daybreak.  The  challenge  left  no 
choice  of  weapons,  as  Gilbert  thinking  Hugh  knew 
nothing  of  the  duelling  laws,  had  proposed,  I  may 
say  ordered,  that  they  fight  with  pistols. 

While  Hugh  was  still  scanning  the  document 
a  second  visitor  s'tood  before  him.  This  arrival 
was  none  other  than  Gus  Williams,  who  had  re 
cently  completed  a  new  revolver  and  was  visiting 
Washington  to  secure  a  patent  on  his  invention. 
Hugh  excused  himself  to  the  army  man  long 
enough  to  greet  his  old  friend,  and  then  exclaim 
ed  :  "Gus !  old  friend,  you  are  just  in  time  to  do  me 
a  great  service.  I  have  just  received  a  challenge 
to  fight  a  duel  at  daybreak.  Will  it  be  asking  too 
much  of  you  to  act  as  my  second?" 

"What  are  you  going  to  fight  with  Hugh, 
boy?" 

"The  challenger  has  named  pistols,"  replied 
Hugh. 

"Then  let  me  take  the  job  off  your  hands," 
begged  Williams,  "with  this  new  gun  of  mine,  I 


204  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

can  cut  a  center  at  fifty  yards,  every  shot,  but," 
continued  he,  "I've  got  nothing  to  say,  I  didn't 
have  anything  on  you  with  a  pistol  when  we  left 
Loveland."  So  the  challenge  was  accepted  and 
the  second  departed,  carrying  the  news  to  Gilbert 
that  he  had  learned  that  his  opponent  was  a  dead 
shot.  Heavy  drinking  and  this  unwelcome  news 
did  not  serve  to  steady  Roy  Gilbert's  nerves,  for 
the  occasion. 

Hugh  spent  most  of  the  night  writing  to  his 
parents,  and  to  Lottie,  he  wrote  a  brief  note  say 
ing  that  as  a  gentleman  he  was  compelled  to  give 
Gilbert  satisfaction  for  knocking  him  down  in  the 
defense  of  a  helpless  young  lady.  He  further 
wrote  that  before  this  note  reached  her  the  duel 
would  be  over,  and  continued  the  note:  "in  the 
event  I  am  killed  I  have  this  day  made  you  my 
heiress  as  my  parents  do  not  need  any  financial 
assistance.  Gus  Williams  arrived  in  Washington 
this  evening  and  is  with  me  even  now.  Should  I 
survive  the  contest  we  will  call  on  you  tomorrow. 
To  yourself  and  sweet  mother,  I  tender  my  un 
dying  affection.  Again  with  love,  Hugh." 

"Look  here  Hugh,  this  gun  will  just  fit  your 
haijd.  It  is  balanced  to  a  hair,  and  shoots  one  hun 
dred  yards  exactly  where  you  hold  it.  There  is  no 
rebound  or  bouncing  as  there  is  with  those  old 
army  pistols.  This  one  looks  rough  on  the  exter 
ior  but  she  is  all  hand  made  and  as  true  as  a  pure 
woman's  heart.  Take  her  boy,  them  Army  fellers 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  205 

will  laugh  at  it,  but  in  about  a  week  when  the 
patent  office  report  comes  out,  they  will  change 
their  tune." 

The  morning  of  the  duel  was  a  foggy  dreary 
one,  but  both  cabs  containing  the  principals  and 
seconds  reached  the  grounds  at  about  the  same 
time.  Gilbert's  seconds  were  men  enough  to  offer 
Hugh  one  of  their  pistols,  but  Hugh  declined  it 
showing  them  the  crude  looking  gun  Williams 
claimed  so  much  for.  It  seemed  neither  of  the 
principals  had  slept  as  both  were  clothed  in  even 
ing  dress  suits,  and  as  for  Hugh,  we  know  he  had 
not  slept  at  all  for  it  had  required  most  of  the 
night  to  get  through  with  his  legal  business,  and 
he  gave  the  rest  of  the  night  to  visiting  with 
Williams. 

Gilbert's  seconds  took  charge  of  the  affair, 
and  an  old  doctor,  that  had  come  with  them 
whispered  to  Hugh  to  refuse  to  fight,  for  said  he : 
"You  and  your  weapon  have  no  chance  whatever 
with  the  Captain,  who  has  spent  much  of  the 
night  in  pistol  practice  in  a  cellar  built  for  that 
purpose."  Hugh  thanked  the  kindly  old  doctor, 
adding  that  the  loss  of  his  life  mattered  little  as 
other  personal  worries  were  weighing  heavily 
upon  him. 

At  twenty  paces  the  young  men  stood  facing 
each  other.  Gilbert  pale  and  vicious,  Hugh  cool 
and  resigned.  At  the  given  signal  both  pistols 
spoke  at  once.  Hugh's  pistol  arm  fell  to  his  side. 


206  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

For  a  moment  young  Gilbert  stood  as  if  unharm 
ed,  then  he  threw  his  arms  in  the  air  and  fell  to 
the  ground.  Hugh's  bullet  had  pierced  his  left 
lung  just  below  the  heart.  As  they  lifted  Gilbert 
to  his  carriage  an  officer  drove  up  with  a  warrant 
for  his  arrest  charging  him  with  the  indirect  mur 
der  of  his  former  sweetheart  whose  name  we  shall 
withhold. 

Hugh  had  received  a  heavy  one-half  ounce 
ball  in  his  right  shoulder,  it  was  an  ugly  wound 
and  was  bleeding  profusely.  Williams  staunched 
the  blood  as  best  he  could.  The  old  surgeon  be 
ing  occupied  with  the  now  unconscious  Gilbert. 
Williams  ordered  the  cabman  to  drive  them  with 
all  haste  to  Hugh's  rooms  where  he  summoned 
one  of  Washington's  most  noted  surgeons. 

Lottie  was  reading  an  account  of  the  duel  in 
a  morning  paper  when  Hugh's  letter  arrived  by 
carrier. 

"Merciful  Father  in  Heaven,"  cried  the  poor 
girl,  "Here  I  sit  helpless  when  perhaps  my  darling 
is  dead  or  dying."  She  ran  to  her  mother  with  the 
news,  and  ordered  a  black  servant  to  bring  around 
the  carriage  as  soon  as  it  could  be  prepared.  It 
was  still  raining  when  she  reached  the  carriage 
and  everything  seemed  shrouded  in  gloom  for  the 
poor  girl,  whose  whole  life  had  been  one  series 
of  wonderful  adventures. 

On  reaching  Hugh's  rooms,  the  surgeon  had 
just  arrived  and  would  not  admit  her  to  the  pres 
ence  of  the  brave  young  hero.  She  was  informed 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  207 

that  Hugh  had  swooned  from  loss  of  blood,  still 
the  wound  was  not  necessarily  fatal.  So  the 
poor  girl  returned  to  her  home  to  lay  her  added 
sorrows  at  the  shrine  of  her  mother's  love. 

After  removing  the  heavy  slug  of  lead  from 
Hugh's  shoulder,  Hugh  regained  consciousness 
and  immediately  inquired  about  Gilbert,  saying: 
"I  did  not  mean  to  kill  him  outright,  and  had  only 
hoped  to  lay  him  up  for  a  time  as  I  am  sure  the 
law  will  not  let  him  go  unpunished  for  his  brutal 
treatment  of  the  girl  at  the  race  track." 


208  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 


Chapter  XIX 
"I  Thank  the  Storms" 

As  soon  as  Roy  Gilbert  could  be  removed 
from  the  hospital  he  was  arrested  and  charged 
with  the  murder  of  his  former  sweetheart.  At 
the  trial  he  was  found  guilty  of  manslaughter,  and 
was  sentenced  for  life  in  the  penitentiary. 

The  next  day  after  Lottie  had  visited  the 
Wounded  Hugh  at  his  rooms,  she  sent  for  Williams 
and  unfolded  this  plan. 

"Dear  Uncle  Gus,"  pleaded  the  girl,  "Mamma 
and  I  want  him  here.  Say  to  him  that  you  must 
take  him  to  a  hospital.  He  is  too  proud,  he  will 
not  come  willingly  thinking  he  will  give  trouble. 
Bring  him  at  once  to  our  door;  if  you  fetch  him 
here,  I  will  see  that  he  does  not  get  away."  So 
good  hearted  Gus  did  as  the  sweet  girl  bid  him 
do.  Early  next  day  found  Hugh  in  the  coziest 
bed  chamber  of  the  mansion  with  a  view  of  the 
capitol's  dome  from  his  window. 

Lottie  was  seated  at  his  bedside,  Hugh's  face 
was  pale  and  haggard,  still  a  new  light  was  begin 
ning  to  shine  in  his  eyes. 

"Hugh  dear,"  said  the  girl,  "What  if  he  had 
killed  you!" 

"I  didn't  think  at  the  time  that  you  would 
care  much,"  replied  Hugh. 


THE  STORM'S  GIFT  209 

"How  dare  you  say  such  a  thing,"  said  the 
girl,  "you  know  you  are  all  Mamma  and  I  now 
have  to  love." 

"Could  you  love  me,  Lottie  dear?  as  I  want 
your  love,  the  love  of  a  wife  for  her  husband?" 
This  inexperienced  young  lover  had  suffered  a 
long  course  in  the  college  of  Hades,  with  a  voice 
that  went  quivering  into  her  soul  he  continued, 
"I  will  love  you  even  after  the  crown  of  a  silent 
sleep  touches  my  eyelids,  forever."  His  unbent 
thoughts  were  wandering  among  the  marvels  of 
her  beauty.  To  him  she  was  an  angel  with 
white  woven  wings.  Her  beauty  had  smoothed 
the  face  of  his  trouble,  and  again  he  was  panning 
the  jewels  of  his  heart  to  fall  at  the  feet  of  his 
queen. 

"Don't  you  wish  I  was  a  boy,  Hugh?  Now 
you  know  you  wish  I  were.  Shan't  I  bring  you 
the  scissors  dear  so  you  can  cut  my  curls  again  ?" 

"Don't  punish  me  farther,  Darling  Lottie,  it 
is  impossible  for  me  to  conceive  why  I  was  such 
an  egotistical  numbscull  when  a  child,"  replied 
Hugh.  "I  will  live  the  remainder  of  my  life  in 
atonement  for  my  silly  childhood  fancies." 

"Are  you  sure  you  will  not  put  me  back  in 
the  water?"  inquired  Lottie  "if  I  promise  to 
marry  you?"  It  seemed  that  the  curtained  win 
dows  of  her  soul  was  a  problem  far  beyond  him. 
There  was  a  rose  at  her  bosom,  that  lost  much 


210  THE  STORM'S  GIFT 

of  its  beauty  by  comparison.  She  had  gnarled 
the  full  message  of  love's  clinging  tendrels  about 
his  pure  young  heart. 

While  he  still  lay  there  on  his  downy  bed  he 
viewed  his  early  errant  character  with  regret.  In 
his  impassioned  idolatry  he  had  not  forgotten  the 
sterner  realities  of  life. 

"Darling,"  he  continued,  "will  you  come  with 
me  to  Oregon?" 

The  girl  drew  nearer,  then  knelt  at  his  bed 
side  placing  her  arms  about  his  neck,  she  said  with 
a  happy  sob : 

"To  all  the  questions  you  have  asked  me  dear 
est,  my  answer  is  Yes !  Yes !  Yes !" 

Hugh  brought  her  sweet  lips  to  his  own,  and 
said  "All  praises  to  the  storm  for  this  priceless 
gift." 

THE  END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


Form  L-9 
2Sm-2,  '43(5205) 


3523  on   " 

t.65s     The    storm1 


A    000927242    ( 


PS 

3523 

L65s 


